Cursed
by UnravellingThread
Summary: "She watched and became obsessed with the Movie. Now she is face to face with the Phantom and it was not at all what she expected." Erik/OC. Leroux Based. Features a girl born with the Vampire's Disease.
1. Introduction

**Warning(s):  
**This is purely written as reading material from a fan. I do not mean to offend, insult, or give anyone ideas.  
I only say this because Religion and Sexuality both play somewhat big parts in my story and there may be some scenes when it seems that a religion or people that believe the religion within the story are based on only what is stereotyped in the media…  
My writing will not help with real life or offer any sort of advice.  
I ask that you do not use these scenarios in an attempt to put yourself into a coma. This is only a story. **Nothing more**.  
You will only succeed in seriously and permanently damaging your brain, end up in a vegetative state, or dead.  
This story is rated 'M' for swearing, sexual scenes, blood shed and what could be, offensive material.

**Disclaimer:  
**I do not own The Phantom of the Opera or any of the characters within the movie... or novels… which ever I have placed this fiction under. This is why I try my best to make this story as accurate as I could and so my story would not have conflict with the story line. I'm trying my best to get the character's personalities or how they would react to be just as accurate. I would appreciate some feed back if I make any of the characters out of character.

**Claim…er?:  
**You will notice that are more characters that are not mentioned within the movie as well, this is because they are not in it… Well at least I don't think that they are. But either way, they are only extras for this story… I have read the Leroux novel and watched the 2004 movie countless times… I only wish that I read the Susan Kay novel.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy the short story and Welcome to the Coma Series: "The Phantom of the Opera" edition.

**Please Review!  
**~SafetyPinStitches

**

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__****co·ma**_ 1__ (kō'mə)  
n. __pl.__co·mas_

A state of deep, often prolonged unconsciousness, usually the result of injury, disease, poison, or in rare cases the individual is manually placed into the state in which an individual is incapable of sensing or responding to external stimuli and internal needs.

_**[Greek: kōma, deep sleep.]**_

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**Cursed**  
**Introduction:** Kyla

_  
The Crows Curse.  
Crows or Crowe, give or take a letter, is an ironic last name in my opinion.  
I got a question. Was a crow always labelled as an omen of death?  
I always figured it would have changed to a vulture by now, but no… in legends and myths it remains as the ultimate bad omen.  
The reason why I find it ironic is because I was born with a curse, and my last name has 'crow' in it. It actually means 'The Crow' in french. Think me over dramatic if you want. I'm dead serious… if you had a dark sense of humour; you might have given a little giggle.

The curse started with my great, great, great grandmother back in the 1600s somewhere in Europe. Back in the day when they burned witches on a steak and tossed them in a river after being tied to a chair and every family had at least ten kids.

Yes, I am a witch's descendant. If you want to technical, I am a demon's spawn. Or was it vampire? I can't remember.

I was never allowed to look into my family's history or listen to my late grandfather's stories. Mom said he was crazy. Either way, I think it is very surprising that the family wasn't totally wiped out all those years ago. But the curse just had to live on, and you know that with each generation the blood grows weaker and thinner until it is hardly there anymore? The very same happened to the family, and it was said that the curse was lifted.

'God smiled upon the Crowe family'

This didn't happen until the late 1800s… or was it the early 1900s… It doesn't matter.

The curse suddenly made an appearance a little while after my late aunty got married and before the doctors had given a diagnoses she killed herself. Some books and websites say that said 'curse' kind of screws around with your mind too so, I don't think she was herself when she jumped off the hospital. If that wasn't shocking enough, could imagine the expressions on everyone's faces when the doctors told them what they found in her blood? I bet it would have been priceless. I wish I was there to see them all.

My aunty died before I was born… six months before, actually. And that was when my mom and dad figured that I might have had the same sickness my aunty had and that would explain the complications without my mom's pregnancy when she was carrying me. But the doctors couldn't determine that until I was born. They kept my mom in the hospital until she went into labour, leaving my dad to take care of Oliver and grieve over his little sister's death.

Then one morning, I apparently decided that I wanted to see the outside world. I put my mom through almost three days of excruciating pain.

Needless to say, I almost killed my mom. But when I was finally yanked out of her, my dad snapped out of his depression and I became his pride and joy. Seriously, I am the original daddy's girl and very proud of it. I love my daddy… and my mom. I love her too. I just really share a bond as special as the one I have with my dad.

I was born with my mom's eye shape, lips and hair color: Black/overly dark shade of brunette. I had dad's eye color, ear shape, eye lash length (pretty damn long) and smile. They both had straight hair, though mom permed it a lot, so I was not lucky enough to have natural curls or wavy-ness. So I got stuck of boring pin straight hair.

After we were released from the hospital, I lived seven happy years with my mom, dad, older brother named, Oliver and my Pomeranian named, Sheshko. I always wanted to have a pet cat but mom was never on good terms with the felines so dad got a dog that looked like a cat… well he tried to find one that looked like a cat. It was the thought that counts, right?

But again, right now I am a legal adult if I was to live in Canada and I said 'seven happy years.' My mom took me for my dental check up.

Although it wasn't a very big deal, it was a concern for a child my age to have such large canines. They took a few x-rays, and said for me to come back when my baby teeth are gone and my grown up teeth were poking out of my gums. At this time, Oliver's baby teeth had already fallen out and he was almost completely toothless. I left the dentist office with a new ninja turtles tooth brush knowing it would make Oliver jealous.

I was only seven, so I didn't know or cared for what was going on with grown-ups, but even I noticed that my mom began to act a little weird.

A few days later, she took me back to have the very same teeth removed. I don't think my dad knew what she was up to because when I got home he got mad when he seen that little necklace with the plastic tooth around my neck. Remember the one; the dentist would give you to keep your teeth safe so you could give it to the tooth fairy?

They never argued in front of me and Oliver, but we knew when they were because they would send us out to play in the backyard and close the door behind us. While we waited for them to call us back inside, Oliver asked to see my teeth inside the plastic tooth. I said no at first, and then he said he would show me something really cool. So I showed him.

When he was done inspecting all four of them, he pried my mouth open and laughed at me and said 'That's why you're talking funny!' He got me mad because I didn't know I was talking weird until he pointed it out. I had a lisp thanks to my mom and that damn dentist. But my anger completely vanished when he finally showed me what was really cool.

His adult teeth were growing in. I thought it looked really cool and got a closer look and he pointed to his canines. You know when a canine tooth is growing from the gum and it's like a small point? Well he had two! On each of his canines, top and bottom, there was the front and an extra tooth growing in the back of it. It reminded me of the time I first watched Jaws, with all the rows of teeth in the shark's mouth. For awhile I thought my brother was changing into a shark.

After he showed me he made me pinky-promise never to tell mom or dad. He was scared that mom would do the same thing she did to me and get his teeth pulled out. I made the promise, and we were finally called inside. We had to brush our teeth first and the bristles hurt my gums and made me bleed. I didn't want mom or dad taking me to a hospital or anything so I swallowed it, toothpaste and all. Gross.

Mom and dad tucked us in and made sure my teeth were safely placed under my pillow before putting on the new power rangers movie to help us fall asleep. My favourite was always the green ranger.

The next morning I woke up to find five whole dollars under my pillow. 5 dollars! I felt so rich to have that much money all for myself and ran to my mom and dad to show them. Dad couldn't stop laughing at me because of the lisp and because I couldn't eat without having my food mashed together.

Then I forgot about my brother's totally awesome shark teeth, I lost all my baby teeth, the lisp and my adult teeth came in.

Everything got really messed up when I turned nine, and one morning my brother was really pale and looked really sick. I asked him what was wrong and he shoved me away from him and my shoulder hit against the corner of the table.

Don't get me wrong, I fought with my brother many times before but this time was very different. I was really scared and I didn't know why. It might have been the blood or the sound my skin made when it ripped, I'm still not really sure. Oliver checked on me right away and asked if I was okay before begging me not to cry. I nodded and told him my arm hurts. He asked if I wanted him to kiss it better and I nodded.

I should have said no, because after he kissed my shoulder I seen blood on his lips and he licked it away… then Oliver started licking at the blood on the table. My blood, he was licking my blood off the table!

I asked him why he was doing that-- totally freaked out of my mind! Then he turned to me, held me down so I was lying on my stomach, kept his hand over my mouth saying he would tell on me if I yelled, then licked and sucked at my bleeding shoulder. My mom walked in to the kitchen. She didn't see us under the table and made herself something to drink. She was there for awhile with her crossword puzzle, calling to dad to hurry up and calling for me and Oliver to come for breakfast.

Then dad walked in, he didn't see us either and sat next to mom asking if me and Oliver were playing in the backyard with Sheshko. Mom said no and said that Sheshko was still in the laundry room. They got worried and jumped up from their seats to go looking for us. They didn't take two steps until I screamed because Oliver bit me. Mom looked under the table first and screamed as if she seen Chucky the killer was with us.

Then the table was suddenly flipped off the floor and dad quickly ripped Oliver off of me- and when I say 'ripped,' I mean that literally because Oliver had a chunk of my skin in his mouth while dad held him away from me. Oliver must have realised what happened and started to cry and tried to say sorry to me.

I was left on the floor, crying my eyes out and trying to tell him sorry. I don't know what I was sorry for, and while my dad hugged Oliver as he was crying, my mom stared down at her son as if he was a monster then looked down to me. I didn't like the way she was looking at me and crawled away from her when she finally tried to hug me.

I guess this is a good time as ever to tell you that my dad was a policeman.

My mom refused to come with us to the hospital unless my dad agreed to take his police car and put Oliver in the backseat where the criminals sit. He said it was foolish to do that to him and just left her standing in the driveway with me and Oliver in the car. The whole ride to the hospital was very quiet and tense, especially for dad because he had to keep telling Oliver to press the rag onto my shoulder while we were stifling sobs. I felt bad for leaving mom home alone. I was scared of Oliver, but I was kind of happy to see that he didn't look as sick.

I thought the doctor would have us there for a little while and let us go home with a lollipop, but I was so wrong.

After they asked my dad what happened, and questioned me and Oliver, they kept us there for hours. Mom didn't show up until they finished giving me stitches, I got something called a tetanus shot and Oliver and I were changed into hospital gowns. She didn't make the visit any better. Infact she made it all worse. She told the doctors about dad's half of the family and what happened to his sister.

It was her fault we got so many needles shoved into our arms… and it was thanks to her that Oliver and I had to live there for months at a time. I was told what my condition was and how serious it is, but you know how doctors explain things. With all these long, sophisticated words, they might as well be speaking alien-ese.

So I didn't think it was a big deal and neither did my dad.

On the way to the hospital dad decided to take us to McDonalds before we were forced to live on pills and IV bags. Mom was at work or shopping, so there was no stopping us. I was so happy to see the play room with all the bright colors. But I was fourteen, so I was not allowed to play with the rest of the kids… er… children. But we were lucky because Oliver's friends; Jacques, Shane, Dylan and Sam, were there and dad let us eat with them while he went to pick up a car part. Leaving us there with no parental supervision and slipping fifty dollars into our pockets.

After ordering our food and each of us having Oreo McFlurries, the conversation changed to a 'Who-has-the-biggest-balls' contest. It's a guy version of truth or dare, just without truth, and I watched them all do the dumbest things ever. It was hilarious! And after awhile the game died down when no one wanted to take Sam's challenge to go into the play room. Then they have the nerve to laugh at me when I said I would do it. When they seen that I was serious, they decided to raise the stakes. So not only would I have to play in there but I had to emerge from the swirly slide with four different socks from the kids already playing inside, and if I did they would bestow the 'Biggest-Balls' award to me. If I didn't do it, I had to buy everyone another McFlurry. Not wanting my money to be wasted on someone else's stomachs. I entered the play room, my brother and his friends watching. Sat down next to a happily married couple and waited for the worker inside to leave the room, and when she did- I quickly took off my shoes and ran like hell!

I could hear them laughing and saying how they couldn't believe I was actually doing it and grinned like mad. I approached a little girl and we played that huge tic-tac-toe game, her name was Alyssa and she won the game. She was the first to give me a sock, and I crawled my way up to the bridge, Alyssa following right behind me. On the bridge a couple of boys were hogging the bridge, saying it was theirs.

The bridge was the only way to get to the slide without climbing back out of the play house so I bribed them to let me through and give me their socks. But I only got two because the third said his mom would be mad if he didn't have his sock. So I gave them my key chain of Greenday and they let me pass. I just needed one more sock when one of the employees came into the room and told me to get out of there. I gave up and was going to slide down until this little girl came climbing up the slide and looked at me oddly. She looked so cute, with her little pig-tails and asked how old I was. I asked if I could have her sock, she said 'no, mommy would get mad.'

Why were these kids being so difficult? They were going to get the socks back.

I asked again, saying that I would buy her and the other kids that gave me a sock, happy meals to take home. She gave me the sock. The employee below was getting annoyed and began to call me down from the tunnel slide I was currently in. I only smiled and slid down, hardly giving the guy any warning and I knocked him over. I blushed so red. He landed on top of me while I was on my back and we were face to face. He was very good looking and his eyes had a really nice shade of brown.

Then whatever moment we were having was ruined when the four kids I got socks from came sliding down all at once, there feet hitting my back and I hit my forehead against the guy's nose.

I couldn't help but laugh, and I held up the socks for all to see, in victory. The guys started to yell and whistle for me and the guy helped me up, saying he was sorry and handed me my shoes. I was awarded the 'Biggest-Balls' award. My brother yelled "My sister has the biggest balls here!" My face flashed red, parents glared in our direction and I still owed the kids their happy meals. And as luck would have it, the employee that served me the happy meals was the same guy that fell on top of me. I couldn't stop blushing, but we started talking as I waited for my order. He was two or three years older than me, he had a car, driver's licence, his name tag said Jeff, but his name was Jamie and he was my first boyfriend.

That relationship didn't last very long. Two months. He didn't like having to see his girlfriend in a hospital all the time, but I found out that he was really cheating on me with one of the girls that worked at the same McDonalds. Better to have loved then lost, than to have never loved at all, huh? Nope! I wish I was still innocently unaware of those feelings because now I keep blushing and think guys are checking me out every now and then. Hate it. On the bright side, at least now I know how to kiss… unless he was a really bad teacher. Damnit, how will I figure this out?

Then, when I was fifteen and I was in the hospital again, dad and mom were talking about a divorce. It scared me a lot and I told my shrink about it. He said it wasn't that uncommon for parents to have fights and it will be over soon, the divorce forgotten. Oliver didn't think so and told me not to believe any bullshit the shrink had to say.

Oliver and I shared a room… sort of. There was a glass wall between us and we could talk to one another through a phone. Like they do in prison.

One night, Oliver got out of his room and took me out of mine. We ran down stairs to the cafeteria. Since I started being forced into the hospital they had me on vitamins and vegetables: a strict diet that didn't involve meat in the slightest, so you could imagine the joy I felt when I first laid eyes on that slab of bacon.

So, Oliver locked the doors from the inside and it was only him and me in there. He kept an eye out for anyone while I cooked the meat and when I was done… Oh. My. God! I can't describe the feeling that went through me, and we were done all too soon. We wanted more meat. Then we found the meat that is made in the sandwiches and we started eating those. While we were eating, he asked if I liked it. I said yeah and continued eating, he gave me a Pepsi and told me 'this doesn't come close to what I felt when I pushed you.'

I almost choked on my bologna and stared at him for the longest time. I was scared he was going to try eat me.

He seen the way I was looking at him and explained what he meant. "It's like you're completely full and your stomach is telling you it's happy." I didn't really understand and he asked me if I felt anything when I took that first bite of the bacon. I realised how good it was and said yes. Then he went very serious and explained, in horrific detail of what we both had. To keep our sanity and to keep ourselves healthy and looking like everyone else, our bodies needed something that was only found in human. We needed to eat other people's remains or drink blood to be happy and normal. Disgusting right? I guess that's why it's called 'The Vampire Disease' on the internet. I never heard it from the doctors.

That was why the doctors had us on so many pills and kept asking how we felt. Iron pills… got me very sick. I couldn't handle it. It was worse for Oliver. The difference between Oliver and me was that I was 'levelled' and my sickness was being maintained. Oliver on the other hand, had already had a taste of human flesh and blood; his body was craving for it. I guess it was my fault he was worse than I was. He did promise me that he would make my stomach happy: Pinky-Promised. And as much as that is disturbing, I found it sweet and said it would me my Christmas present. I was only joking when I said that, just to make that clear.

Our midnight snack didn't last very long after that. A voice on the intercom kept saying 'Patients missing' and repeated our bracelet numbers and what our sickness was. We decided to hurry back before things got bad and when we stepped out of the elevator we were suddenly shoved onto the floor, face down and the male nurses worked on binding our hands with some plastic that used on labelling clothes or keeping shoes together. I didn't know what the hell was going and started to panic, having a little flashback of the time Oliver held me down and bit at my shoulder… it didn't last long though. When I calmed down and Oliver stopped fighting back, we were strapped down to the beds and had to wait until our parents got there. All the while, the doctors asked us where we were and why we left. I had nothing much to say and didn't know if I was supposed to lie for Oliver.

Mom was the first to show up, and they asked us if we went to the room that held organs that were donated and if we ate them. Right in front of our mom. We said 'no' but they didn't believe us and pumped our stomachs… I had to laugh when they found bacon, Pepsi, pills and bologna. I honestly didn't know that they had a room like that in the hospital.

Well, I apparently ruined all the progress I made and I was switched to a different system thing that was created by a medical college.

Did I ever mention that Oliver and me were examined by interns and other medical students. Even a few professors. I didn't think I wouldn't like the attention, but it was really… I felt like some freak, or I belonged in Ripley's Believe it or Not. It wasn't fun.

When I was sixteen, my parents divorced and there was no custody battle. It was just me, Oliver and dad. Mom died to me that year, and apparently she died to dad and Oliver too. Dad was never the same and alcohol found him. He couldn't look at me and Oliver without tearing up or unless he had a bottle in his hand. I hated her for turning dad into some drunk.

Thankfully, this didn't last long and my uncle moved in. The man that married my suicidal aunty. His name was Jeff, his real name was Jeff. I had to ask a couple of times and asked to see his drivers license before I finally believed him.

He got my dad to stop drinking, and helped with the bills and even drove me and Oliver to the hospital or school. I got close to him, and it was like having a really old, older brother. What made things even better was that he knew about the illness we had and only wanted to understand it more and he was a nurse! So we didn't have to go to the hospital anymore!

He was the one that kept us on our college-made plan and made sure we had these nasty drinks every morning before we went to school. It made things a lot easier and I really liked having a normal-ish life. I got friends and kept them for a long time. I even got to spend Christmas with a tree instead of the branch sitting on the nurse's desk in the hospital.

But word got out in school about our illness, and there was a little meeting about it between parents, teachers, dad and uncle Jeff. I didn't go because no students were allowed inside these sorts of meetings, but I heard the yelling from the door. Parents seriously didn't want me or Oliver to be in the school unless we were under some sort of supervision. After an hour or so, an agreement was reached and Oliver and I were carefully looked after by the teachers and had occasional check ups by random nurses and policemen.

I lost my friends when I began to get bullied. One day I came to my locker and seen a picture of Hannibal taped to the door. I found it cool and re-taped it inside of my locker, but after that I got called Hannibal or Cannibal… then Dyke.

I didn't understand it until some of my friends started talking to me again and some of the older girls said to be careful around me, or else I'll eat their pussies right out. Oliver only laughed and said he was getting the same treatment, but got a lot of girls asking to date him. When I realised Oliver wasn't going to help me, I never wanted to go back to school and begged to be put back into the hospital.

I got my wish, and I was alone in the hospital. Then they tried to change my plan and switch me off to something else that involved stem-cells. But dad and Jeff said no for me. I was glad they said no when I found out what it was. I don't think I would have been comfortable with myself if I ate a fetus… or baby.

That was the year I turned 17, and for my birthday I got to choose between going to six flags or getting my hair done any way I wanted.

I got my hair done. And it was beautiful. It's cut short, but was still able to cover my ears but not touch my shoulders with lots of layers. And the under side was all green and so was my bangs. I may have looked emo or 'scene' but I freakin' loved it! Green and black hair, my dream come true. The hardest part was keeping the color, until I was introduced to kool-aid and punky color. I totally looked like a girl version of Sasuke Uchiha, only more happy and wearing a lot of hospital bands/bracelets. I was really confident since then. It was the same year when I finally got to have a TV in my hospital room, and I fell head over heels for the Phantom of the Opera.

I begged my dad for a laptop or the novel by Gaston Leroux for Christmas, but he said: 'We'll see' and my dreams shattered. I hated it when he said that, it always meant I wouldn't get what I want. …I know, I'm a brat.

I was surprised that I got the laptop, and YouTube was my life since that was the only way to watch the movie. Gerard Butler became my favourite actor.

Sad to say that I am nothing without my little MP3 player, but that's going off topic a bit. I still got to tell you what Oliver got me for Christmas.

The MP3 player. 4GB and the screen was large enough to watch movies on it.

I still don't know where he got the money to afford it and felt bad because I just gave them all sweaters-- Oh! And Jeff got me sweater that looked exactly like the one I got him, only smaller. We laughed really hard but never had the heart to exchange them and we agreed never to wear them at the same time.

At dinner Jeff cooked and dad carved while Oliver and I played on our new laptops. I had black, he had red and we both played with the web cams. Making funny faces to each other while in the same room. Completely nerdy, but it was fun.

Dad called us to the kitchen and we all ate. Oliver and I were allowed to skip the pills and the tofu crap since it was the holidays and Jeff wasn't our nurse until after New Years. It was delicious and Oliver and I snuck back into the kitchen later on that night and had seconds. I had seconds, Oliver had fourths. Before I bit into the turkey or ham he stopped me and said 'Wait. I have another present for you.'

We went to his room after raiding the fridge and he sat me down on his bed while he went to his closet. I don't know why, but I always found his room a lot better than mine, even if it was really dirty and some of the food growled if you went near it. When he came back, he held a food container and sat down on his computer chair that had wheels before quickly putting a stick-on bow on top and giving it to me. He was grinning really big, I couldn't help but grin back and opened the container and seen a small slice of meat inside. But it wasn't meat I seen before. It kind of looked and smelled like pork and chicken. I laughed and looked back to him. 'You got me food?' I asked. He only grinned wider and nodded, telling me to hurry up and have some before he kicked me out of the room.

I ate it, and it did taste like chicken and pork… or a badly cooked meatloaf. I almost spat it back out before looking to him and he looked away, taking the container back. 'I didn't have that much time to cook it on the stove, so I microwaved it.' he said before looking to me again and gave me his drink to wash it down. 'What was that?' I asked. He gave me a hug and said: 'Your Christmas present.' Then he sent me to my room before Jeff noticed me sneaking around.

The next morning I felt so good! I couldn't explain it but dad said I looked like a happy-healthy Tigger. Oliver seemed to know why, but when I asked him what it was he fed me he kept saying the same thing over and over again. 'Your Christmas present.'

When evening came around, there was a knock on the door and a nice blue car in the driveway. Jeff went to answer the door and I followed after him just to be nosy. When the door opened, it was like I was seeing a ghost and my mom was standing there with another man beside her and they were both holding presents. I couldn't move and watched as Jeff tried to tell her that she shouldn't be there right now, but she seen me and pushed past him and pulled me into a forced hug.

'Oh, Kyla. I missed you so much. Happy Holidays!' she said happily, sounding very well rehearsed and introduced the man behind her as David, her fiancé.

Dad and Oliver must have heard her voice, because they were suddenly behind me and I was suddenly ripped away from mom and arms wrapped around me. Dad told Oliver to take me upstairs and Oliver dragged me up to the top of the stairs where we listened to the argument. I wasn't pretty, and it was the first time I heard dad swear and yell so much. That David guy got in on it too, and soon all four of the adults were yelling at each other. Then it all died down and the door slammed, Jeff called us back down and gave us the presents while dad went to the garage. That was when Jeff told us that mom was trying to take me back. I didn't know how to react to it and stayed quiet for a long time thinking. I didn't even realise that I opened my presents until I looked down to a teddy bear with the year stitched into the foot.

After New Years I was called back to the hospital and I was introduced to my new Doctor. Doctor David Mackin, my mom's fiancé. He was nice and very smart. He was working on a study to help with my illness and I was apparently the perfect candidate to undergo the guy's plan and since he 'knew' my mom, dad wasn't informed and she signed the papers to allow me to go through with it. I wasn't comfortable with it at all. For four months I was supposed to be getting prepped for his study and during that time I was craving for something. I didn't know what it was and I began to think a lot more than I usually did. I realised that no matter what these doctors did, I would always have this disease and eventually I may kill someone and eat the body as if I were some monster. I couldn't live with myself if I did get away with it, and I did not want to rot in prison. I turned eighteen and tried to kill myself.

I was hooked up to a heart monitor and other machines that I didn't need and just watched as the monitor made the beeping sound with the weird green line. My MP3 battery died a few hours before then and I couldn't get off my bed to turn the TV on. I began to think of my dad, mom, Oliver, Jeff, and wondered if they would even miss me. 'They would only grieve over my death for awhile and get on with their lives. It would be okay.' So I got off the bed, tearing the cords out of my arm and off my chest before running out of the room and into the elevator before anyone noticed the loud beep coming from the flat lining monitor.

I found my way to the cafeteria and locked myself inside. I don't know how long I was standing there in the dark, and when I turned on the light the first thing that caught my eye was the gleam of a knife on the counter, right beside the sink filled with soaking dishes. I took the knife and stared at it for awhile, just wondering how sharp it was. Then the sound of David's voice over the intercom rang in my ears and I felt panicked. He said my full name a few times and had some decency to add in the fact I was the only patient with green hair. I knew it wouldn't be long until they found me there. I passed a few other visitors and nurses on the way down, one of them might have seen that I came in here.

Sure enough, there was banging on the door and I looked back to see some nurses peeking in through the small window. When I seen David's face I quickly brought the knife down to my wrist and applied a little pressure before pulling the knife away. The knife was sharper than I thought, and I didn't feel the sting or pain until the cut opened to reveal my flesh, it reminded me of a puppet's mouth without a set of teeth. After a moment, it began to pool with thick red blood and I made another cut, a little lower than the first where I seen the little blue line hiding under my skin and the same happened.

I didn't think, I just dropped the knife and watched as the blood seeped from my wounds. The nurses and doctors were trying to open the door and the metal soup ladle I used to lock it was bending. When I looked back to my wrist, it began to throb and my fingers were getting a little cold, but the blood was slowing and turned all clumpy. "No, I want to die!" I screamed to my arm and began to claw at the cuts with my nails. When I brought it to my lips and I bit and sucked at my blood I started to get light headed and I sat down on the floor. I did this for awhile, the door and the people behind it forgotten as I enjoyed the feeling in my stomach then my arm was suddenly yanked away from my mouth. I groaned in protest but I must have lost too much blood and the world around me began to fly by me in a blur.

My suicide attempt was not successful. I woke up an hour later, just as the IV was doing it's job and the Doctor was telling my mom and dad that I had to be put under an induced coma so I could undergo his plan without being a threat to myself or the people around me. I kept my eyes closed until my mom and David left the room, and Oliver and Jeff took their places. I sat up and I was hugged and slapped by Oliver.

I barely got to visit them until the doctor came in and said that I had to be prepped for my needle. The female nurses hooked me up to tubes that I'm too embarrassed to say where they were put and I got my hugs and kisses from dad, Jeff, Oliver and mom before they left the room. David said to think of something nice so I wouldn't have a bad dream. I thought of the Phantom of the Opera and how he would have been in the Gaston Leroux novel. Then I watched as he put the needle into my IV and the water looking liquid mixed with my medicine. When he placed his lips on my forehead I suddenly felt a splitting headache and my arm was burning. I wanted to cry how badly it hurt, and everything went black.

So, yeah…

My name is Kyla Evelyn La'Crow, I am eighteen years old, my favourite color is green, I love playing the piano on my laptop, I have a pretty good memory, I am completely obsessed with The Phantom of the Opera and I have a very rare case of Porphyria.

This is how I got The Phantom, also known as Erik, to see that there is something a lot worse than a beautifully disfigured phantom—

**Me.**

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	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter has been Updated. I made a little oopsie here and thought I should fix it. XD**

** ~SafetyPinStitches**

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**Cursed**

**Chapter One:** Help from The Persian

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Darkness. Black. was all I could see… I couldn't tell if my eyes were closed. I try to scream and yell, but nothing happens. It was like I wasn't in any control of my own body.

_'What did that damn doctor do to me?'_ I ask myself and I could remember what he said before sticking that poison into my IV tube.

'Think of something nice so you wouldn't have a bad dream.'

_'The Phantom of the Opera - The Phantom of the Opera'_ I began to chant over and over, until I was screaming it in my head. But nothing was happening. Did they put the wrong needle in me? Am I dead? I can't be dead!

Where is the fire or the heavenly chorus? The bright light at the end of the tunnel? It was complete bull shit if I was in purgatory. I must have done more good than bad or vice versa, I couldn't have been teetering between the two. I try again, to kick, scream, cry- but still I couldn't feel anything. I didn't know if I had a body anymore it was very frustrating and scary at the same time. I couldn't even have a panic attack if I needed it.

After I… think I calmed down, I started to chant other things like 'There's no place like home' –but stopped when I realised that I could move my legs if I had them anymore.

Then it was 'Just keep swimming, just keep swimming' –then I notice that I wasn't in water and not a fish.

Finally I scared myself when I thought of 'It puts the lotion on the skin before it gets the hose again.'

I just gave up and wished I had tears to cry. It's not fun having no control over your own body… if I had a body. I couldn't have been a ghost. I didn't want to haunt a hospital for all eternity.

I didn't know how long I was in total darkness and wished I had light—ANY kind of light.

Then I finally heard something.

It was like a sizzle and a 'poof' before a soft glow radiated in the darkness and as glad as I was, I wished it was closer to me. But it was just enough light to see that I had my body…and then there was a floor, then it was like some sort of mirage and stairs came to view, along with many boxes and finally walls. It was then I realised that I was in a basement of sorts and in my hand was a lantern. I raised the lantern higher and took a better look around.

Nothing was very special about this basement. The boxes were made of wood and were nailed shut so I guess that would be called a crate. I was wondering why they had the shampoo name painted onto them: Garnier, and behind the crates were some sheets of wood cut into various shapes… I took notice that one was an elephant's trunk.

The stairs led to a trap door and there was footsteps and murmured voices beyond it leading me to believe that I was inside a house basement. Lowering the lantern I approached the stairs and was going to attempt to open it. Then I heard hurried footsteps from somewhere behind the crates. At first I figured who ever it was could help me out but I caught a glimpse of a dark shadow near the ceiling.

I let out a shriek and ran to the top of the stairs until I hit my head against the trap door. I let out an 'oww' and sat down, the lantern I once held slipped from my grasped and fell onto the floor. Now the only light I had came from the cracks of the trap door and from whoever was behind the crates. I jumped when a man's voice came from where the shadow thing was floating.

"Who is there?" he asked. I looked up to be nearly blinded by a different sort of lantern, it's light practically beaming at me like a flashlight and only the shape of his arm and shoulder could be seen.

I shielded my eyes with my hand and strained to have a better look of the man. After a long moment of silence, I thought he would lower the lantern when he seen that it was only a girl. But he didn't and I got annoyed when he called out again: "Who is there?"

"Dim your light and I may tell you." I answered in a snap, wanting to make it very clear that I did not like the interrogation light, as I would call it. He whispered something incoherently and the light was lowered, then dimmed to a soft glow and I could uncover my eyes and openly glare at the man.

He approached, setting the lantern down on a crate and stood a few feet from me. Well… I now know what the floating thing was. It was a weird hat that I seen in google pictures of Russians. The cap sat proudly atop the man's head. His skin was very tan, his eyes were a pretty green color and his stance reminded of my dad when he wore his police uniform. The air around him held authority and at the same time he seemed very wise and levelled. Even his expression was carefully set as emotionless and at the same time approachable.

His brows raised in surprise as he looked at me. I forgot that I was wearing a hospital gown and pushed the gown down to cover my legs, but the gown had suddenly grown longer. Confused I looked down to myself and I swear, I could have cried when I finally realised what the hell I was wearing: A brown bottomed dress, the torso was black and was kind of snug, around my waist was a white apron and under the black corset looking top was a white long sleeved shirt. It was almost exactly what Belle was wearing in the Disney movie 'The Beauty and The Beast'. I could only wish that it was white and blue. Lifting my dress a little, I inspected my shoes and sure enough, they were black and were a spitting image of Belle's shoes. I was too scared to look at my hair, in fear it was long, brunette and tied back in a neat little bow instead of being cut short, black and green. I was dressed like some cleaning lady. What happened to the hospital gown?

"Ugh…" I glanced up to him with a nervous smile. I did not want to bring too much attention to myself and I didn't want to make a mistake when it came down to introductions and asked: "Sh-shouldn't you introduce yourself first?"

He straightened his stance and gave a nod, maybe glad that I broke the awkward silence first. I was very surprised to find that his voice sounded very confident and loud. "I am The Persian."

I highly doubted that was the name his mother gave him when he was born but I thought it was best not to question it. He sounded so confident with the title. He made a hand gesture to me, his palm facing the ceiling. I didn't know what to do with his hand like that and thought he was offering a hand shake. I moved from my seat on the stairs and took hold of his hand.

"I am Kyla." I returned, my voice not giving much confidence and was a lot quieter than his booming voice. I tried to start the hand shake but he held my hand in place, leaned down and kissed my knuckle. My brow quirked and I wondered why he did that and slowly took my hand back before sitting back down on the stair steps. He offered an almost smile as he stood upright, and for some reason I felt like he was inwardly laughing at me.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, but may I ask for your surname?"

My face flushed red and I couldn't help but grin. It was a tiny little problem I had when I would feel like I embarrassed myself. "Oh, sorry. I'm Kyla La'Crow." I corrected myself, trying to hide my embarrassment. "-you can call me Kyla if you want." I quickly added, encase he were to try and be formal and call me by my last name or full name. He gave a deep chuckle before he sobered and became serious again.

"Kyla… what are you doing down here alone?" he asked. I didn't know how to answer the question because I wasn't completely sure where 'here' was. But who better than to ask him? I smiled sheepishly and wrapped my arms around my knees.

"I know I might sound a bit silly, but I don't know where I am… I was hoping that maybe you can shed some light for me." I replied. I didn't miss the strange look he sent my way.

"You do not know where you are?" He repeated, as if to confirm if he had heard right. I slowly gave a nod, now wishing that I had never opened my mouth. He eyed me carefully before glancing over his shoulder.

"Do you remember where you were before you became… lost?" he asked carefully. Now I began to believe that he thought I was crazy. I narrowed my eyes to him and stood from my seat.

"A hospital. I was at a hospital before I ended up here- now could you please tell me where 'here' is?" I asked in an angry tone, motioning to the area around the two of us.

He didn't expect me to have become angry so suddenly and held his hand in mock surrender or to show he had meant no harm. "My apologies. We are under the Opera-"

I had stopped listening to him entirely and took a look around the place again, butterflies fluttered wildly in my stomach and I had a grin that only seemed to grow wider as I began to piece everything together. The elephant's trunk, the lanterns, the lack of electricity, my weird clothes and how formal The Persian was. _I was dreaming of The Phantom of the Opera!_ I turned back to the Persian as he was trying to ask why I was in the hospital and I cut him off in a midsentence.

"Where can I find him?"

He stopped and looked at me oddly. "Pardon?"

"The Opera Ghost. Where can I find him?" I repeated, hoping to god that this man would point me to where The Phantom lives.

The Persian seemed taken aback, but I paid no mind and glanced behind him and began to wonder if I could find him myself. Looking back to the Persian, he seemed to have figured out what I was thinking and quickly blocked the way he had just come from. I only grinned more and stood up in excitement, even let out a little gasp.

"You know him!" I said excitedly and jumped around a little. My happiness did not last very long, barely sixty seconds because he snapped: "What you talk of is complete nonsense. There is no such thing as an opera ghost."

Shattering my hopes and a tiny bit of my heart at the same time, I stopped my excited jumping abruptly and looked up to him. His expression was exactly as cold as his voice and he took hold of my shoulders. I shifted uncomfortably, to assure myself that I could break free from the hold but his hands barely budged, I was scared. I had developed a little phobia of being held since Oliver had me under the table. I began to tell myself that he was only going to tell me something and I will live. I focused my attention to his mouth to get my mind off of his hands, and he took in a breath- I waited in an antsy suspense.

Then behind me, the trap door opened and the light surrounded us. I looked up to find three men coming down the stairs and stopped when they seen us. They looked at me and their brows raised, then they looked to the Persian and their eyes narrowed suspiciously. The first man, wearing a cap, a long sleeve shirt with a brown and black vest began to roll up his sleeves as if he was readying himself for a fight.

"Do you need any help, mademoiselle?" He asked with a snarl, never taking his eyes from the Persian. I glanced back to the Persian and sighed in relief when he finally unhanded my shoulders. He seemed tense and at the same time annoyed with the interruption, but he remained silent and glanced back to me to answer the man's question. I put on the best smile I could and shook my head.

"No thanks. The Persian was just warning me not to-"

"You mean he _threatened_ you." One of them cut me off and they all came down the stairs. The man in the cap pulled me away from the Persian and pushed me back so he and his friends were between me and The Persian. I looked to him and seen he was calm and emotionless as a brick wall. Only his eyes jumped from one man to another. The situation had somehow turned bad; I didn't know how to break a fight!

"Wait it not what you thin-"

"What's taking you all so long?"

I looked to the trap door opening and an older man walked down, wearing a nice suit and had a moustache as curly as Captain Hook from Peter Pan. He stood at my right and looked down to me then to the other men with a disapproving look.

"What's going on here?" He asked as the men all turn to him and began to explain the situation. Whoever this man was, he had these guys on a leash. I was fairly impressed.

"Monsieur Bouquet, we found that Persian threatening that young girl."

My eyes widened as I looked to the older man. _This was Joseph Bouquet?_

Bouquet raised his brow sarcastically before looking down to me. His cold eyes quickly turning warm and friendly. I could hardly believe this was the same drunkard pig in the movie. I couldn't help but laugh as he attempted to smile but his moustache nearly covered his entire mouth. It was like looking at a younger, full haired version of the Monopoly guy. He seemed surprised as I laughed, but he let out a wholehearted chuckled and asked: "Is this true?"

He asked it in a way that would have made me feel so guilty if I were to even think of lying. It was so grandfatherly, I wanted to hug him… or at least give him socks for Christmas. I shook my head 'no' with a small smile before I turned serious and glanced over to the Persian.

"The Persian was only helping me. I got lost and he was just telling me not to come down here." I partly lied, then glanced to the men as they glared at me. Then I quickly added in: "Your friends only mistook the situation."

Bouquet gave a nod before moving out of the Persians way so he could climb the stairs to get out of there. Then escorted me to the bottom step and telling me to stay up there like all the other 'young Mademoiselles'. I gave him a nod and a smile, and then followed The Persian up the stairs. It was a lot brighter than it was below (I know, 'duh' moment), and it took awhile for my eyes to adjust. When they did, it was I was in a whole other world… again.

There were plaster casts of all kinds of objects around me, some were being painted by a whole line of women into vases. In another area there was fabric of all colors and material, costumes and masks were hung from poles and on the wall. There was stairs, ropes, beams and even an upper floor made entirely by 2x4s. It was amazing. People there too were very… unique.

Looking ahead, I caught sight of the Persian and chased after him. I had nowhere to go and had no idea what to do: he was the only one I knew so far and he was nice to me.

"Hey, wait!" I called out.

He didn't stop. I picked up my pace and when I was only a few feet from reaching him, a swarm of ballerinas came out of nowhere and blocked my path. One of the youngest ones let out a shriek and pointed at the Persian. The rest of the swarm gasped and immediately crowded together and I was in the middle of them. Some were even grabbing my arms while other hid behind me.

"Let go!" I snapped in panic and annoyance, yanking myself from their grasp and forcing my way out of the mob. When I was out, I glanced back to them and would have laughed if I wasn't calming down from an almost panic attack. Their mouths hung open and their eyes were just as wide. I imagined some flies flying in and out of their mouths. Looking back to where I last seen the Persian, he was a lot farther away and had just disappeared around a corner. I groaned and left the ballerinas in a run.

Turning the corner I ran down the hall and turned another and ended up in the grand foyer of the opera house. It was very beautiful and breathtaking, but why did it look so different than it showed in the movie? Finally I caught up with the Persian and tugged at his coat. He abruptly stopped and snapped his attention to me as if I had just bit him. I jumped back and gave a wry smile. His glare softened and he turned back around and began his stride again.

"I have already told you that there is no such thing as an opera ghost." He said with a sigh. I walked beside him as I took in every detail of the foyer and nodded dismissively.

"Yeah, you've said that… but I don't know where to go." I admitted, glancing to him in hopes he may help.

His brows furrowed and he looked around and replied, "Find a room, there are many here."

"But… You can't just leave me like that-" I trailed off, trying to think something, anything to make him help me out. "I saved you." I blurted out desperately. He glanced down to me calmly, making a bit nervous and very pitiful feeling. Another man, wearing the same cap as the Persian atop his head, came to the Persian's side and looked to me with the same calmness. Only this man was a lot younger than the Persian, his cap was a lighter color and he was dressed in a long overcoat. I looked between them both, unsure what to do now that there was two of them. Then I continued in a whisper, keeping my attention on the Persian. "They might have beaten you if I never spoke up."

The Persian looked thoughtful at least, easing my nervousness a bit. And he turned to the younger man behind him.

"Darius." He called. The young man's eyes jumped to the Persian and quickly moved so he was in front him and gave a bow. Looking over the man, now known as Darius, he gestured to me.

"Escort Kyla to the manager's office. Do not let them see you with her."

"Yes master." Darius replied obediently, bowing to the Persian even lower and turned to me. I was too confused to ask why he called the Persian 'master' because I assumed that they were father and son. Then the Persian began to walk towards the entrance of the opera house. I made a move to follow him, but Darius blocked my way.

"Wait, why the managers?" I tried asking the Persian, but the man ignored me and had already walked through the doors. I felt my shoulders slump as I stared at the door, my question unanswered. Darius moved from blocking the way and he joined me in staring at the door.

"You will need a source of income to make end's meet. Follow me." He kindly explained and led me to the manager's office.

Standing in front of the door, I felt like a child and I needed to be told what to do. But when I turned around to ask Darius he was already heading towards the front doors the Persian had used. Again, I felt my shoulder's slump as I watched him walked through the doors and turned back to the door. To be completely honest, it was the first time I was scared of a door… then again, I was scared of flushing the toilet when I was potty training.

Taking in a deep breath and holding it, I knocked on the door. Inside a series of incoherent whispers could be heard, as well as numerous shuffling sounds and hurried footsteps. I was about to knock again and the door swung open and an older man stood on the door. His brows raised when his eyes landed on me, and gave out a small: "Oh?" Then he looked around the foyer in a paranoid way. I wondered why he was acting like this and I looked around as well and I was ushered inside the office. The man escorted me over to a chair and I seen that their was another man standing at the book shelf, attempting to act as if he was busy but I could see his eye glancing over to me as I took the seat and waited until the man that opened the door sat across from me, wearing a friendly smile.

"Well good evening Mademoiselle. I am Moncharmin and this is my dear friend and business partner, Firmin. We are the managers of this fine establishment." He introduced, motioning to the man at the bookshelf who turned to me and gave a nod of acknowledgment before turning back to read the book titles. And for the second time that day, my eyes widened in disbelief. _These two are the managers?_

"How may we help you?" Moncharmin asked, folding his hands upon the desk and looked over to me expectantly. I smiled, and shifted in my seat and looked to him as confident as I possibly could at the moment.

"I come looking for work."

"Work?" They said unison, both turning to face me before sending looks to one another. I glanced between the two and watched as Firmin pulled up a chair beside the desk and Moncharmin pulled out some papers from his desk.

"Then, we will begin with an interview." Firmin said as his partner got himself ready to write.

Through the whole interview I kept telling myself to answer in their favour, not my own. I laughed when they asked if I believed in ghosts and that seemed to have guaranteed me a position in the Opera. They may not have looked at all like they did in the movie, but they were still very easy to fool.

"Do you have any questions for either of us?" Firmin asked, as Moncharmin finished writing on the paper. I grinned when I seen that he looked very pleased and turned my attention to Firmin.

"If I am hired… what position would you offer me?"

The both looked like they had forgotten how to breathe and turned to each other with fearful looks. I withheld myself from rolling my eyes and looked to them both innocently as they both turned their gazes on me.

If I had known who they were going to take me to for approval and a position, I would have begged to be a cleaning lady.

...

"Ah! It is a perfect way to spend my time when I grow bored." Carlotta squealed in delight, her voice heavy with a Spanish accent as she looked me over one final time. _I thought she was Italian_ I tried my best to smile. She inspected my face with the scariest coy smile I have ever seen in my life.

The two managers behind her looked to each other nervously before asking: "So, she is hired?"

Carlotta stood and turned to them both with the same smile and gave an enthusiastic head nod.

"Si! She will be working for me."

The two men looked very relieved and both took turns giving me a handshake and welcoming me to the opera house. Before they left the room and leaving me with the Prima Dona they said that we could negotiate my salary when I am free. I couldn't help but feel that they had held aces up their sleeves the entire time and I had been screwed over. When the door closed, the Prima Dona turned to her mirror and began to pat at her hair. I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room and watched her in silence. She caught me staring and smirked. I expected the worst and my mind told me to run until I collapsed from exhaustion, but instead she sat on a pink couch and looked at my dressing in a snooty way.

"Alright, Kayla. I think the first thing we do is get you some better clothes and a better wig." She said in a nonchalant tone of voice.

I was annoyed that she had said my name wrong, but my mind was focused on the word 'wig' to bring myself to correct her. I glanced up to my forehead, and pulled at the hair and seen it was just as black as dad's hair and it was annoyingly long.

"Uh… La Carlotta." I said hesitantly and held up the lock of hair I was momentarily inspecting. She looked to me wit a delicate brow raised. "I'm not wearing a wig."

"Please." She scoffed, getting up from her couch and making her way over to me and continued: "I have been working in the theatre for a long time. I think I know a wig when I see one."

When she finished, she took a handful of my hair and it slipped off my head so easily, I suddenly felt a breeze atop my head and I screamed in horror thinking I was bald and ugly.

"Oh my god it's a wig?" I nearly screamed. My hands quickly shot up to my head and I was more than relieved to feel hair- a full head of hair and it was short. Carlotta's expression exactly the same as mine a moment ago and stared at my hair, completely flabbergasted.

"It's green? How did you do that? Ugh! Never mind! Here, put it back on! We must go now!" She said in one breath and placed the wig back on my head and pulled me out of the dressing room and saying a lot of things in Spanish.

In school, I took French as a second language so I had no idea what the woman was saying. After passing by a few corners and everything looked a little familiar she let go of me and told me to meet her at the doors. She had to go back for her coat and bag. I nodded and walked towards the hall that I believed, led to the foyer.

On the way I passed under a spiralling staircase and I knew that it led to the roof. That, at least was familiar to me and I was glad to know that something was as it was supposed to have been. So far nothing had turned out to be was she had seen in the movie. Looking up to the stairs, standing directly beneath it, I realised how hungry I have become… and something shiny was caught in the metal stairs. Tilting my head to try get a better look, I lost the gleam and decided to just climb up and get it. When I reached it,

I tugged it out and wondered how and why someone could lose something so valuable looking. It was a ring, and a beautiful ring at that. I was never one for jewellery but I had to admit it was nice. The band was silver and sitting on top was white diamonds that resembled a flower.

I snapped out of my thoughts as I seen Carlotta walk by and slipped the ring on my right ring finger. I would have to find the rightful owner when I had clothes and a better wig.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Updated. Even more oopsies. -_-**

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**Cursed**

**Chapter Two:** 'Cut him down'

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Looking into the mirror I turn my head to make sure that the wig was on to stay. Carlotta was very good at finding wigs but annoying when she didn't get her way. She was disappointed when I didn't want blonde or red hair. I was more than content with my natural hair color, though I hated the length of the wig. I hung down my back and stopped at my tailbone and the bangs were long, reaching my chin… I guess that doesn't mean their bangs then, huh? Right now I was supposed to be choosing a hair style for my new wig but I had no idea what to do with long hair. I've gone too long using hair straightening mousse, a small comb and a hair straightener to know what to do with an elastic and those metal pins that stab your skull.

"Uhh…" I glanced to the side of the mirror to find Carlotta staring back at me with her arms crossed and her foot tapping the floor, growing very impatient. I smiled nervously and handed the wig back to the stylist.

"Just part it above the brow and leave it down." I told him, ultimately deciding on an emo hair-do. Might as well look the way I feel… I even have cuts on my wrists (I just suck at poetry). He gave a hurried nod and placed the wig atop a wood carving of a head. I almost laughed when I noticed he was trying hard not to stare. It was the exact reaction I wanted from people when they seen it.

"So, how did you get your hair to be that way?" Carlotta asked.

I turned to her and found she too had been staring at my hair, slightly tilting her head. I reached up and ran my fingers through my hair, tugging a strand out in the process. I muttered and 'oww' and looked to at the root of the green strand to find it was all green with no black. But when I last check it had grown a few centimetres or so and I was nearly due for another bleaching, how could my natural hair color not be showing now? Carlotta must have thought I was being a little hesitant to tell her why or how I got my hair the way it is, because she was suddenly in front of me inspecting the strand as well.

"You can tell me. No one else would know unless they want to lose a valuable customer." She said to me, picking the hair out of my hand and letting it fall to the floor as she sent a glance to the man combing the wig. He paled a little and began to hum a tune to himself as if he were trying to block out our conversation.

"Oh… my hair is like this because of… my illness." I lied. I jumped when Carlotta jumped away from me with wide eyes. I realised how it may have sounded and inwardly smacked myself. Why not have just said 'I have leprosy, want to shake my hand? ACHOO! Sorry, I didn't think it would land in your mouth.' I quickly raised my hands and began to shake my head 'no' in an attempt to stop her from a near freak out.

"Don't worry! I was born with it, so it's not contagious." I quickly explained. She let out a sigh and she started to relax a bit. I was relieved to see her calm down, but she didn't move any closer. She eyed me and my hair suspiciously and slowly asked, "What sort of illness?"

I stopped to wonder how to answer without making her too scared. 'It's called the Vampire disease, don't worry I won't eat you.' I thought sarcastically. If she had reacted that dramatically over an illness, I could only imagine her reaction if I told her I needed human blood or human flesh to keep me healthy. As far as I knew this time period in the movie wasn't too far off from the witch hunt era. I don't think I would be able to untie myself from a chair while sitting at the bottom of a lake or survive being burned to death or hung my neck… depending how serious they all take their folklore I would be running from a mob as they chased me down with pitch folks, fire sticks, crucifixes and holy water- maybe even a pistol loaded with silver bullets… wait, I think I got it wrong. Glancing to Carlotta I shrugged, hiding my own fear for the time being and said: "It's nothing too serious or life threatening, it only has effect on hair, skin and eye color… It's like having freckles."

"Like freckles…" She repeated, trailing off as if she were thinking of something very serious and important. (I'm sorry if you have freckles, I just needed to compare it to something that Carlotta would believe.) I watched her expression for a moment until the stylist placed the wig atop my head and shoved my hair into it before clipping something in the back then placing the hair over it. He directed me back in front of the mirror and began to comb it out. I was pleased to see that he had done it that way I wanted. I smiled to him through the mirror and he returned it with a nod before walking to the front counter and began to write on a small sheet of paper. I caught Carlotta's eyes in the mirror as she said: "I did not know freckles was an illness."

I gave a smile and walked with her to the counter, stepping on the bottom of the damn dress while doing so and stumbled into it. Carlotta gave me a start as she burst out laughing hysterically. My face flushed red as I stood up straight and attempted to hide my embarrassment behind my new wig, catching the stylist as he stifled his own laughter. Then he laughed when he couldn't contain himself anymore when Carlotta gave a snort, then I started laughing pointing at Carlotta. She sounded like a pig if it were to have a Spanish accent, I couldn't believe it!

When we calmed from our laughing fit, Carlotta paid for the wig and she took me to another place for clothes. She said I could choose anything I wanted and I could even have clothes specially made, but it would be a week or so until it would be delivered to the Opera house. Anything as long as it was three things. Walking past the great mass of dresses, undergarments, nightgowns and other womanly clothing in the front I made it to the back where a girl about my age was working on a men's pants. I didn't care if the pants legs looked like a pair of long sleeves on a shirt, I was so happy to see pants again! And beyond the girl on the wall hung shirts and over coats- More pants! Carlotta and the seamstress that welcomed us approached and I grinned as I pointed to the pair of pants.

"I want those." I told her with enthusiasm. It didn't occur to me that I was acting like a brat, so I mistaken her smirk as an approval. The seamstress smiled unsurely and asked if I would like to try on some dresses before I 'rushed.' I shook my head and repeated what I first said, this time adding in a pair of dress pants for special occasions. Carlotta gave a laugh before telling the seamstress to take my measurements and for the younger girl to help her try on a dress that caught her eye. The girl looked up and gave a nod before pinning the pants and following after Carlotta. I think my heart stopped when she passed me and I realised she looked very familiar… all she was missing was the McDonald's uniform and my ex-boyfriend humping her leg. My jaw dropped as I watched her walk off behind Carlotta and the seamstress pulled me to a round platform in front of a large mirror. _How the hell did that girl get here?_

"May I ask why you are interested in men's clothes?" The seamstress asked me as she lifted my arms and sized my bust. My eyes narrowed as I watched where her hands were going all through my measurements. I don't know about you, but I found the situation very uncomfortable and it was hard to keep a straight face if a certain place on the body was ticklish. I almost kicked her when she was measuring my legs and I burst out laughing when she had to place the tape under my arm pit. It didn't matter if I was laughing like an idiot. It was not fun! When she finally finished I stopped holding my breath and sat down on the plat form as she wrote in a book.

"Well, I'm not very comfortable in a dress to be honest." I finally answered. She gave me an odd look before writing again. I watched her write, listening to the scribbling sounds the feather-like pen made when it glided past the paper. Behind her, Carlotta returned wearing a new dress and gave a twirl.

"Ah. Nothing is better than the feel of a new dress." She commented with a smile before looking to the seamstress. "Did you fit her?"

The seamstress gave a nod, and we returned to the Opera house with my new dress and a gentleman's dress pants and white shirt. Carlotta said that if I insisted on wearing men's clothes, they have to be fashionable if I was going to be seen with her. It took all my will power to smile and not roll my eyes. We were in her dressing room, where she had another woman help her, help me with my dress. She wanted to be sure that it made me look good and I didn't make the dress look good. I honestly didn't see the point and almost passed out standing in a damn corset!

"Lace her up properly."

_Are you serious?_ The last bit of air that was in my lungs was literally _squeezed_ out of me. I could feel her tying the lace and Carlotta gave a sound of approval. This was the first time I had ever wanted to bite a person before… and I think my lungs got tied or something. But that was all. It was only to see what I looked like in the dress and I was free to roam the Opera as I pleased while Carlotta left to sleep in her suite a few miles away. The first night, I tried hunting for the Opera Ghost. I totally tried make my own theme music like Ghost Busters… god that movie sucked. And I found nothing relating to the ghost, but I did get drink some wine with some of the stage hands until Joseph Bouquet found me and sent me off before I got his men into more trouble.

Actually… I was Ghost hunting for three days, and found nothing. No one would give me any clue and… I was too scared to ask Madame Giry. She looked nothing like she did in the movie… she had the same moody, demanding respect and 'I'm-proper-I-expect-you-to-be-the-same' kind of air about her that made me do a 'U' turn whenever I came remotely close to bumping into her.

I was none-to fond of the ballet girls either. Especially that Jammes girl. She loved to talk and it was always about someone of some story she had heard, and the rumours! Most of them were about me and I caught her telling some. I never told anyone about my illness and what it is specifically yet and already I am being called a witch. Don't get me wrong, she was the only helpful person when it came to the Opera Ghost. But she exaggerated when she said he had some sort of death's head.

So I laughed at her little story and walked on. _Seriously? A death's head? What the hell is a Death's head? _

To add in some more good news, I have made two friends and both work within prop painting, and they were very good. Their names are Jacque Courches and Emmett Froste. They were the stage hands that tried to 'save' me from The Persian. Despite that misunderstanding (and they refuse to believe what I had said), we three got along very well, and they were the only guys that didn't hold their palm out to me and asked when they were going to die… did I forget to mention I can't sleep?

I stared at the candle flame sitting on the night stand, laying face down on my bed with the heavy comforter blanket draped over my head. I was comfortably wrapped within it like it was my own cocoon but I was far from tired… but I was very hungry.

I wanted anything to eat as long as it was from an animal. (Horrible sounding, yes. Yummy, of course.) Pushing myself up, I sat on my knees and looked around my room. Working up the nerve to walk out into the creepy and eerily quiet Opera house. Say or think what you want, but being in a large, new and foreign place in the middle of the night, alone scares me.

Getting off my bed, I got my boots on, buttoned my shirt and adjusted both my wig and pants before taking the candle off the night stand and heading out the door. When I took my first step down the dark hallway I was going to make a 'U' turn back into my room and I heard something that made my stomach flip. There are no words in the English language that could explain the sound (or I am just that simple), and it was coming from the walls.

I quietly tip-toed to the wall across from my door and placed my ear against the wood, and I followed it all the way down to another dressing room I've never been inside of yet. I check the wall and door for a name plaque, and found that there was none. All the other dressing rooms that were in use had a name of it's actor, actress, diva, tenor, prima donna ballerina, ect. …why not this one? Last I checked all the dressing rooms had a name.

I jumped away from the door when the singing came to a halt and a heard a muffled voice of a man. I raised my brow sceptically, thinking that that beautiful sound couldn't have come from a man with that rough of a voice. Then shuffling and footsteps came shortly after and more muffled voices were heard, this time it was a women, and the two sounded like they were arguing. I must have intruded on a lover's quarrel and I ultimately decided to just go to the kitchen and grab anything to eat then head back for my room before someone troublesome bothers with me. I wouldn't want more rumours of me walking around at night to put a curse on someone… can witches put curses on people? I would have to look up on that another time. I held my candle up higher and took a few steps before the dressing room opened. It opened so slow and made a horrible creaking sound, I imagined some crazed serial killer emerging from the dressing room behind me and a cold shiver made it's way up my spine and I was paralyzed in fear. The door was then closed in the same terrifying way as it was opened and a soft 'Oh' reached my ears. I immediately relaxed and placed my hand over my rapidly beating heart before resting my head against the nearest wall for support.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. Are you alright?" The women asked in a soft whisper.

I gave a nod and took a deep, calming breath before I turned to face her. She… she was beautiful, even on my standards. "I- I'm fine. Thanks." I replied, lowering my candle. She gave a sigh of relief and placed her hand upon her chest, wearing a perky smile.

"That's good to hear. Mind if I ask why you are out so late?"

'_Well, she is straight to the point_.' I thought to myself before smiling sheepishly.

"I can't sleep when I'm hungry and Carlotta had put me on her diet so… Let's just say I'm beginning to feel weak." I finished with a short laugh. I was so relieved when she humoured me and laughed along. I absolutely hate awkward silences after I try to make someone laugh. I pushed myself off the wall and looked forward to the black and eerily dark corridor ahead and felt butterflies flutter into my throat.

"Do you mind if I come along?" She asked and I immediately nodded. She looked at me oddly before giving a little giggle. "Are you afraid of the dark?"

I followed after her, completely astounded that she wasn't using candle light to see where she was headed and let out a huff. "I'm not afraid of the dark… I'm afraid of what could be in the dark."

She looked back at me for a moment, her expression was totally blank and life less. And as fast as the look was there a small smile replaced it and she turned back to look ahead. "I'm surprised we never met sooner. I would love to have a friend like you, you're very smart."

I couldn't help but gush a little at the compliment. I was grinning from ear to ear until we reached the kitchen and she was making tea for the two of us, and as we waited for the water to broil we snacked on bread. I was getting full, sure, but the meat I originally wanted was raw and bloody. I couldn't eat or at least lick the blood in front of this woman… she might scream or spread even more stories about me. Other than my own insecurities, she was very nice and polite. She even laughed at some jokes that wouldn't make sense until '09. We were talking about the up-coming premiere of an act that was re-written into an opera when the pot started to scream and we both jumped to get it before the whistling woke anyone.

She came back to the table with two cups and some light brown looking crystals… it looked like a very expensive sort of juice crystals for iced tea. I tilted my head as I looked at it and the woman poured the tea into to the cups. I took the spoon off the table and began to play with the crystals in a poor attempted to figure out what it was using the candle. After a while, I was sure that I damaged my eyes and asked, "What is this?"

Holding the spoon full of the brown crystals. She looked at me as if asking if I were serious before letting out a laugh. I half-heartedly glared at her and she apologised. "I'm sorry. I just never been asked what sugar was before."

I felt my face begin to burn from embarrassment and looked away from her as she stirred her cup before handing me the spoon to do the same. After I added my three spoons of sugar, we remained silent. I wasn't sure what she was thinking about, but her face would sometimes turn very pale and she looked sick. I shifted in my seat, getting ready to dive off her way encase she were to puke. I looked down at my cup of tea and admired the dark color before taking another sip. My eyes trailed down to my shirt sleeve and I remembered how good my stomach felt when I sucked at my cuts.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I never got your name." She exclaimed, making me jump and nearly spill my tea all over myself!

I placed the cup down firmly on the table before glancing up to her. She had an innocent expression and looked as if she was waiting for me to explain myself. The look on it's own got me a little moody and I nodded, leaning back against the table to make myself comfortable.

"Well, I'm Kyla La'Crow. Carlotta's slave." I replied, introducing myself with a little title to make me feel a little more important. (Though the title made my feelings backfire a little.) She stayed quiet for a moment, just stared at me as if asking if I was serious (again) and she gave a laugh. I was being completely serious, but gave a laugh as well. When I was done laughing, I ran my tongue under my top canines just enjoying the sharp-ish feeling until she finished laughing. _…it wasn't that funny._ I took another sip of my tea and eyed her wearily. When I think back on it now… when she introduced herself, I should have jumped over the table and strangled her.

"You have a beautiful name, Kyla. I'm Christine Daae, a chorus girl."

I momentarily stopped breathing when I heard her name and stared down at my cup as if the doctor told me I had cancer. She was the two-timing, innocent slut that breaks the Phantom's heart in the end. I grown an instant dislike for her and glared down at my cup, still in a bit of shock… maybe I heard wrong.

"…is something wrong?" She asked, feeling the heavy tension that suddenly filled the kitchen and looked down to me with concern. I slowly gazed up to her and wondered if she were lying. She looked nothing like the Christine in the movie, and sure as hell didn't sound like her. _Why does everyone here not look like their movie counter-parts?_

"You? You are Christine Daae? …the only child of the violinist?" I asked, wanting a bit more confirmation to her statement, and inwardly hoping I had indeed heard wrong.

"Yes…" She trailed off and looked to be oddly. "How could you have known that?"

_Oops!_ Just realising that I had just said something wrong I was about to cover it up with a lie, but that thought flew right out of my mind as I realised she knew the Phantom of the Opera and he was not heartbroken yet. I had a chance to save him from this useless heartbreak and show him that he doesn't have to live underground. There was a chance to save him!

"Where is he?" I asked, ignoring her earlier question and took hold of her wrist. She gave me a frightened and confused expression, showing that she had no idea what I was talking about… or thought I was crazy. She tried to get my hand off of her, asking if I needed to get some sleep and I cut her off.

"Take me to him, please. I want to see the Opera Ghost." I said, sounding a little desperate and a tiny bit crazy. She remained quiet and took a step back from me and asked what I was talking about. _Stop playing stupid! _I just wanted to scream in her face and force her to tell me where he was!

"Damnit, Christine! I want to see your '_Angel of musi_-"

"What's going on in here?" A male voice piped in, startling the both of us and Christine yanked her wrist out of my hand before running out of the kitchen, brushing past Emmet in the doorway.

"Wait! Christine!" I called out for her, but she didn't stop. Emmet and I both stared at the door for a while, then looked at each other. I slumped across the table and gave a groan. "Argh… you picked the worst time to waltz in here, Emmet."

He gave an offended scoff and took the empty seat across from me, the same seat Christine had been just sitting in before she ran off. He looked down at me with a quirked brow and took a glance to the door. "What are you doing up so early?" he asked, picking up Christine's cup of tea and downing the rest of it in one gulp. I blinked in confusion and pushed myself back into my chair. "Early? …it's morning already?"

He gave me an even weirder look and I narrowed my eye to show that it was getting annoying and he switched it with a grin, but it still looked a bit unsure and very unconfident. "Well, yes. Jacque and I have just started working, which leaves you to answer my question."

I gave a nod and put my head back on the table. "I was hungry and met Christine in the hall on the way here. So she joined me so I wouldn't be alone." I explained, leaving out some detail and attempting to sound more 'womanly' since I apparently had the manners of a farm boy, as Emmet once said. He gave a slow nod, taking my cup and sipping on it with his pinky raised. I had to roll my eyes.

"Ah. And what was this talk about the ghost?" He asked.

I quickly sat up straight and looked at him accusingly. "How long were you listening behind that door?"

He gave a nonchalant smirk and brought the tea cup to his lips and said, "Long enough to see that our dear, Kyla may have lost her mind."

"Well said." Jacque cut in, entering the kitchen with a rag over his shoulder and his overalls undone. He gave a very loud yawn, reached into his pocket and handed me a letter with a red, wax seal of a pretty looking 'C'.

"A letter for Mademoiselle La'Crow… Ah." He stopped and looked at the table with a disappointing scowl and quirked brow. Emmet looked to the table before asking, "What is it?"

Jacque crossed his arms and looked down at me, as if he was superior. (He was raised to believe men are superior. I'm just beginning to make him see that it's not true.) I glared up at him in a playful, challenging way. He smirked back down at me in the same manner and said, "I see she didn't cook breakfast for us working men."

I scoffed and looked away from them, crossing my own arms in a huff. "You got four limbs and a heartbeat, cook for yourself."

Emmet snickered as he got up from his seat, earning a playful shove from Jacque as they started on making breakfast and I read the letter. I had a hard time removing the seal, so I broke it. When I finally got it open, my nose was attacked by the smell of a god-awful perfume.

It was from, Carlotta and she had sent it to tell me that she had been invited to a party of some sort and she wanted me to accompany her (a welcome party for the new managers, that confused me greatly because the managers I had already met were the ones the party was for). She would come for me later this evening and, I quote: _When I come to get you Kayla, you had better be wearing the dress I chose for you_.

I crimpled the paper in my hands and let out a groan. Jacque and Emmet looked back at me oddly.

"Natas is making me wear a dress this evening." I told them and Emmet placed a small bowl of hot… vomit in front of me, giving me a disapproving look. "There is no need for name calling."

"Who's name calling?" I countered staring down at the… food, and looked up to see that they two had the same food in front of them, Jacque eating his with a piece of bread. I wanted to ask what it was, but I didn't want to be rude when they were being kind. I gave a gulp and swallowed a bit of air as I took a spoonful into my mouth. I blinked in amazement to find that it was only oatmeal. I reached over and took the sugar, adding it with my oatmeal and looked to Jacque. "Can you pass the milk?"

He glanced up from his bowl before taking another spoonful, shaking his head. "That's a woman's job."

I glared at him, and was ready to beat him with my spoon when Emmet cut in. "He means that no one took the time to milk the cow this morning." I nodded with an 'Oh' and sat back down, eating the none meaty breakfast. I was beginning to feel even more weak by the minute. Even being forced to take iron pills made me feel a lot more stronger than I felt now.

When we all finished eating, the two men gave me a kiss on my forehead before we went our separate ways. I was never allowed to go watch them work because I distract them (and scare the other men). So when I was walking by the dressing rooms towards my room, one of the cleaning ladies was just entering the same dressing room that didn't have a name. I smiled and offered her a greeting, but the hag only clutched her rosary beads and shut the door.

My smile dropped and I stared at the door for a few seconds and started walking again, wondering how many people here thought I was witch. In front of my door, I stopped and decided to go back down to where The Persian had found me. I never paid that place a visit in such a long time. On the way to the trap door, that leads down into the catacombs, I… I didn't have to say 'excuse me' or even brush past anyone. It was like a lake of people just separated… like a scene from the bible when that guy separated the red sea. When I got there, a woman was already making her way down. She seemed on edge and nervous when she seen I was headed the same way. We both headed down the stairs, she being the smart one had remembered to bring a lantern with her so I was stuck looking around the area nearest to the open trap door. As creepy as it sounds, I stood there and listened as the other woman shuffled around behind the wall of crates. When she was finished, I was going to ask her for the lantern.

I jumped and clinged to the wall at the stairs when a ear piercing scream suddenly filled the area and I looked back to find the woman on the floor and clawing her way at crates to get away from something.

Thinking she seen the Opera Ghost, I quickly ran to her side, being careful not to touch her and tried to ask her what happened. She was crying hysterically and shaking her head, it was like she couldn't tear her gaze away from behind me. Some people from up stairs had crowded around the trapdoor, I could see their shadows from where I was trying to calm the woman at the corner of my eye. I told her everything was fine and she pointed a shaky hand past me. I sighed, not wanting to look behind me encase the Phantom was there and I didn't look very presentable at the moment, but she was making me curious. I turned my head to peer behind me…

"Oh my go-" I couldn't finish my sentence and covered my mouth as I stared into Joseph Bouquet's unblinking, blood shot eyes.

He was hanging two or three feet off the ground by his neck, his skin was red, his clothes clung to him and the expression on his face was pain filled and terrified. Just yesterday he helped me down from the rafters and gave me a piece of chocolate when he asked me to stop scaring his stage hands. He was so happy, playful and father-like when I last seen him. He couldn't have killed himself. In the movie he doesn't die until Carlotta croaks like a toad! I took a few steps back until my back was against the crates, my hand never leaving my mouth. I didn't know how long I was staring into his eyes and down to his feet.

"Kyla, get out of here!" Jacque yelled at me, snapping me back to reality and pulling me out of there and another stage hand taking the woman.

My eyes were wide in fear and shock, and tears brimmed my eyes threatening to spill at any moment. At the top of that stairs and out of the basement, Emmet looked down at me with wide eyes and asked Jacque what was going on. In my head I was telling myself over and over that it wasn't real, and then Jacque told him to 'cut him down' and a chocked sob escaped me. Jacque stopped dragging me when we were far enough from the large group surrounding the trap door (far enough so I couldn't listen to the new rumours that were spreading around about me placing some sort of hex on Bouquet) outside my bedroom door and he pulled me into a hug. I didn't hug him back. I just stood still, allowing him to rub my back in comfort as I fought to hold back tears. A while of this, Jacque told me that everything would be okay and all I have to do is take deep breaths so I could stop shaking. I didn't even know I was shaking until I looked down to my hands.

"Kyla… Kyla?" Emmet asked from behind me. I could feel Jacque's chin against my ear as he looked to him. "Is she alright?" Emmet whispered as if I was sleeping.

"I'm not sure, Emmet… she hasn't said anything. How are things…?" He trailed off, but I knew he was referring to Bouquet. I heard Emmet sigh, and I was ushered into the room and then tucked into the bed like a child. As soon as my head fell against the pillow, I closed my eyes.

They were both quiet for a long time and Jacque was seated at my side. Then Emmet finally answered Jacque. "When we went to cut him down, the rope was missing and he was lying on the floor."

That scared me. It seriously and literally had me paralyzed with fear. A sob escaped me and I found myself clutching at my pillow and burying my face into it. Joseph was one of the only people that were nice to me and didn't call me a witch behind my back, I even adopted him as a grandfather figure. It was completely horrifying finding him like that! It was my first time experiencing mind-numbing fear and I hated it. I felt my upper body being lifted as Emmet sat down on the bed and let me lay on his lap while Jacque rubbed at my leg. Both of them known Joseph longer than I did, I felt like a such when I should be comforting them... Everyone knew Joseph Bouquet, how was his death going to effect the rest of the opera house? If I weren't living it I would have been excited because this was proof of the Opera Ghost - something I could use against the Persian, but... _Damnit, why did I have to go down there?_


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Updated. I know, so many mistakes!**

**- The _Natas_ joke is calling Carlotta 'Satan' but it's spelled backwards… **

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**Cursed**

**Chapter Three:** The Punjab Lasso

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I didn't understand it. How could they still hold this little party when their chief scene shifter just died? _Were they at least going to give a sort of speech on his behalf? _I know that the stage hands and other staff that weren't invited to go to this party were going to have a few drinks and pay their respects and stuff. I wanted to join them and drink Joseph's favourite liquor on his behalf but Carlotta said that I could do whatever I want _after_ the party. Damn that woman could be really deadest on something, huh?

I straightened my posture and I felt the god-awful device squeeze the air right out of my lungs in a single blow. I gave a short grunt and the girl behind me gave a giggle before muttering an apology.

"I-It's fine… Your just …doing your j-job." I couldn't even utter a syllable without gasping for air and this girl was helping me put the dress on over the corset, women's underwear, tights, and the under dress. Why I had to wear so many layers of clothes and still appear thin while the men dressed in fancy looking slacks and tops hats was complete bullshit! _Why God? Why couldn't I have been a boy?_

She finally finished buttoning the back and helped me into some shoes before picking up a brush and combed my hair. We both stared at my long hair (er…I mean wig) through the mirror as she brushed through it.

"Did you mind a particular hair style, Mademoiselle?" She asked me with a smile. I was genuinely surprised how friendly she was towards me… then again, I don't remember ever seeing her in the Opera house before. I gave an unsure smile and a nod.

"Don't call me 'Mademoiselle' it make me feel… old. Call me Kyla… and keep the way it is parted and have it half way up." She gave me a disappointed look before she began to do as I asked. I sat back, trying to concentrate on some breathing exercise I heard on a talk-show radio once before while Jeff took Oliver and I to a store that sold huge ice-slushies in green. I could feel her parting my hair and looping the ribbon that matched the dress around it… and she stopped.

"Are you sure you do not want me to do it in a different style? Half way is so common, I fear no one will notice you, Made-"

"Ah." I cut her off, and gave her a 'no-no' motion with my index finger, making her giggle again. "Kyla. My apologies." She corrected. I gave a smile of approval and crossed my arms confidently.

"Just half way, or leave it down. I would rather not have all eyes on me. I'm actually quite shy." I told her, trying my best to sound convincing even if I wasn't lying. I really was shy and liked to avoid big crowds. She gave a sigh and nodded, and I watched through the mirror as she put it up half way… then took it back down… then put it back up again.

After a while of this, I was very thankful that she was being gentle with the wig and brushed it back down. Ultimately leaving it down as my choice of hair style. Which I didn't mind at all. It was more comfortable and I didn't have to worry about it if it just hung there (and if I was embarrassed or something, I can hide behind my hair). I smiled to her through the mirror and stood, checking my overall appearance and liked what I seen. I didn't look as bad as I felt, even if I was having a very hard time breathing. The dark green dress actually complimented my body and skin tone, my shoulders bared for all to see while my arms were hidden under slender long sleeves. The design on it was of black lace and resembled water (at least that's what I thought), best of all it wasn't too princess like and over done from the waist down. But if they expected me to drink or eat anything, they are insane.

The girl behind me wore a smirk as she looked me over before jumping up in down with glee.

"You look beautiful, Kyla!" She said excitedly, making me blush darkly and I placed a hand over my stomach, thinking the motion would help me breathe.

"You think so?" I asked in return, looked down once again and smoothing out the dress.

She gave a confident nod before stepping forward between the vanity mirror and myself and started to go through the drawers. I raised my brow, wondering if she normally did this or if she forgot I was in the room, so she was caught if she was trying to steal. I crossed my arms over my chest before bringing my fist up to my lips and letting out a fake cough. She momentarily froze and glanced to me through the mirror and returned to her digging. _She is the worst thief I have ever seen_. I was about to ask what she was doing, then she let out a frustrated huff.

"My goodness, Kyla. Do you have any sort of jewellery?" She asked in an unbelieving tone, like a mother would say to her tomboy daughter.

This was the first time someone that looked younger than me ever scolded me and I was speechless for a moment. She eyed me, exactly how a mother eyes a child when they've done something bad and I didn't know how to react. I stared back at her with wide eyes and fumbled to explain I never cared for jewellery. Her gaze drifted down and her eyes suddenly brightened, then took hold of my hand with a triumphant grin.

"Ah Ha! This ring will be perfect!" She said and slipped the ring off my finger. Before I could protest, she put the ring onto a long, black ribbon and wrapped it around my neck like a loose choker.

"Oh." I managed out, dumbfounded as I eyed the ring in the mirror and brought my fingers up to play with it. It didn't look bad on me like that and I didn't look as plain… I guess. She smiled in satisfaction and practically shoved me out of my own room and led me down to meet Carlotta.

On the way, Emmet and Jacque were seated on the rafters with bottles in there hands and other men at there sides. This is where I would be joining them later on tonight. I looked up towards my drunken fools and waved. They didn't seem to recognise me at first and gave me a flirty wave back by moving all their fingers. It was Emmet that recognized me and nudged Jacque. I couldn't help but smirk, flashing my canines in an inward sense of victory as Jacque sputtered and both looked down at me with abnormally large eyes. I snickered evilly to myself as we moved on. I couldn't wait to tease them when I was finished standing next to Carlotta for a few hours.

Entering the grand foyer, I was very surprised to find that it was completely decorated and didn't look at all like it did when I last walked through it. It looked full of life and reminded me of an amusement park making me grin from ear to ear as I looked around. It was all fine and good as I minded my own business and walked along on my own, but when the ballet girls joined the party that was when the crowd once again began to part like the red sea and I didn't want the attention. It was then I heard Carlotta's laughter. I looked towards the door and found her wearing a very princess like pink and white dress, with a tiny hat atop her head. What really caught my attention was the… 'Gentleman' she was clinging on to and wondered why he looked so familiar to me. She caught my eye and smiled widely before bringing her man of the evening with her.

I offered a polite smile as they approached and gave a head nod as a half-assed curtsey (I had no idea how these things worked). His brow quirked at me before he grinned and did the same, humouring me so I didn't feel like a moron, maybe? Carlotta gave a short laugh and introduced us. "This is my assistant, Kayla Crowe. Kayla, this is the man I wanted you to meet! He is James Stevens, the third."

My heart skipped a beat when I realised he looked exactly like Jamie. His smile widened more looking a bit forced as he offered his hand to me, the palm facing up.

"It's a pleasure, Mademoiselle Kayla." He said softly, waiting for me to place my hand in his.

I glanced from his hand and back to him before I did and tried to force his hand sideways into a handshake. His hand stayed in its position and his fingers wrapped around my hand. Feeling trapped, I try to jerk my hand away but he bowed low and kissed my knuckle. When he rose, Carlotta nudged me. I almost groaned, but replaced it with a polite grin and took my hand back. I was nudged again, this time a little harder and though gritted teeth I said "Like wise."

I remember seeing that in a movie, but I couldn't recall what movie it was from. Looking back to Carlotta, she wore a wide grin of satisfaction and looked back and forth from me and Jamie.

"Well, being the lead here you both can imagine how many people are waiting to meet me. Kayla, you wouldn't mind keeping James company while I am away?"

Before I could have some say she turned and joined another group, leaving me and this 'James' behind in an awkward silence.

'_She set me up!_' I thought in a bad Italian accent, like those mob guys in those old movies before glancing up to a bored looking James, whom was eying the room and dance girls longingly. I rolled my eyes and followed his gaze to the flock of ballerinas. I met their eyes and they all looked away and began whispering to one another and my cheeks flushed. They were talking about me and I didn't see it until now. I put my head down a little and my bangs fell over my face.

"You can go. I don't want to hold you back from such… 'pretty' women." I said in a small voice. I glanced up to him and he was staring down at me with a perplexed expression. Had no girl ever told him he could leave her to talk to other girls before?

"But… what of you, Kayla?" He asked with the same perplexity he had on his face. I roll my eyes and figured that it was past politeness since he kissed my hand.

"It's _Kyla_. My name is pronounced Ky-la, and don't worry about me." I said, showing my annoyance and turned away from him wondering if I might find a secret door if I took a look around the opera while everyone else was busy at this party. A smirk rose on my lips as I imagined myself finding my way to his lair and how shocked the Phantom would be when he seen a girl standing there with a huge smile, then looked back to James. "Like you, Monsieur, I have my eyes set on a better prize."

His hand was on his chest, and his expression was taken aback or offended, I didn't know which and I walked away from him. I was making my way back towards the door I entered through and I could hear footsteps a little ways behind me before my wrist was gripped and I was yanked around and I fell against a man's chest. I looked up to see James and he seemed to look a little confused.

"I think we started off on the wrong foot, Mademoiselle. Perhaps we-"

"Please let me go. I don't want a scene." I said threateningly, (also something I seen in a movie) and tugged away from his hold and took a step back. He too, took a step back and looked down at me with the same confused look that was beginning to annoy me.

"Then maybe we can talk over a drink… somewhere private?"

I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest, trying to get a little more air into my lungs and cursing the corset. He looked around and took a step back towards me, then whispered, "Please, I only wish to know what I have done to make you upset with me."

My brow quirked and he leaned back, looking at me and I stared back at him as if he were an idiot. "You have done nothing to up-"

A shrilled and terrified scream cut me off and we all turned to find the little girl, Jammes with her hand over her mouth and the other hand pointing across the room.

"It's the Phantom of the Opera! He's here!"

A grin quickly made its way to my face as I looked to the direction she was pointing at. James gave a chuckle and placed a hand onto my shoulder. He muttered something to me, but I was focused and determined to find the Phantom to really pay any attention to James and I shrugged his hand from my shoulder and bid him good morning; knowing that it would leave him momentarily confused, before I made my way through the crowds in search for the masked man. I could hear James calling after me but I didn't stop and pushed through the swarm of Ballerinas, leading James right into it. It the first time seeing a guy get annoyed and happy at the same time. 'Odd' was an understatement.

I then approached a long table that connected to another two tables, making a 'U.' Guests were seating themselves and the old and new managers shared the one table at the head. I sighed, feeling as though I had gotten my hopes up too high only to be shot down. I turned and made my way back to the entrance so I could change and get out of this god-forsaken corset. I swear it had gotten tighter! I took in a big breath and found that the doors had been shut and the Sorelli woman was beginning to give a speech. I gave a short sigh, wanting to go back to my room and out of this boring party… or ball (What ever the hell it was called). I stared to the door and to the men standing beside them. They stared down at me with stone faced expressions and I slowly outstretched my hand to turn the door knob, but on of them side stepped in my way and my hand made contact with his bare abdomen. I flushed red and said sorry before taking a step back. When I did, the man side stepped back to his original spot next to the door. I never knew how serious some people could be with their job. The ball room was almost empty and everyone crowded around the tables, holding drinks or were seated at the table. Then I caught sight of a certain man, with his faithful servant standing at the edge of the crowd like a wall flower. I grinned and approached them, walking past James and the ballerinas on the way.

"Hello Persian, Darius." I greeted with a smile. The Persian and Darius both turned their heads and looked down at me. The Persian smiled kindly and took my hand in a gentle hand shake. "Good evening, Mademoiselle. How are you fairing?"

I gave a sigh. "I got a job as La Carlotta's slave… I mean assistant."

He gave a chuckle and took a look around before leaning down to Darius and whispered something. Darius gave a quick 'Yes, master' and left us. When he left, I smirked up at The Persian as if I caught him in a lie. He stared down at me with a quirked brow. "You lied. There is a Phantom of the Opera."

His face became serious and solemn before he escorted me to the farther side of the grand room. "Kyla, I ask that you stop this obsession."

"_Obsession_? I'm not obsessed-"I was interrupted with a dish holding two cups being placed between the Persian and I.

I followed the arm to see Darius holding the tray, and the Persian took a glass before motioning me to take the other.

"Thank you." I mumbled, taking the glass and Darius left once again. I had forgotten what I was saying, but it seemed that the Persian noticed and gave a short chuckle while he patted my head gently. I flushed, taking a sip from the glass. I almost spit it back out. I wasn't expecting a fruity-acidic taste and it suddenly warmed my throat, the same warm sensation spread throughout my face like wild fire. I almost grinned and quickly bit my bottom lip to hold it back. _They gave me wine! _

"I see that someone has their eye on you, Kyla. I bid you, farewell." He turned and walked away, Darius following after him.

"Wait, Persian!"

Once again, he left. Placing his untouched glass of wine on a table before those same men opened the doors for him and I was left standing there like an idiot, holding wine in my hand. I inwardly groan and outwardly slumped. He had lied to me and I had proof he lied, if I had only pulled Jammes to the side… she might have been too scared to say anything, but I know the Phantom was really here! I just have to… under the opera! I just have to go under the opera and avoid the trap door on the stairs!

A smile spread across my lips once again and I turned towards the grand staircase leading to the audience seats and walked into a man's chest. I rubbed my nose, taking a step back and heard the man chuckle and my shoulders were taken into his hands. "My apologies, are alright Kyla?"

I looked up to see James and he was staring off in the direction the Persian and Darius had just left through.

"Hello again, James." I grumbled, taking his hands off my shoulder before I had a panic attack. He looked down at me, glancing up to the door for a final time before ultimately looking down at me with a small smile.

"Is that the 'better prize' you were referring to?" He asked in a mocking tone and brought his hand up and began to tap his chin in a fake thoughtful way. "I admit, he is of an abnormal height but he seems to be a bit old for you, don't you think?"

_Was he teasing?_ He held a grin on his lips and he glanced down at me with a glint in his eyes before outstretching his hand to me.

"Grant me one final wish before the night is done, Mademoiselle. I promise to behave accordingly."

I stared at his hand for a moment, taking another sip of the wine and almost spitting it back up… liking the after taste of it. I was never one for dancing and looking behind him I can see the dance floor begin to fill with couples while other women stand on the side lines staring in a longing way. But then again, I wanted to go back to my bed room or argue with Jacques for a while. I shake my head 'no' at his offer, but then he took my hand into his ad wrapped his arm around my waist then practically dragging me to the dance floor. I felt the insides of my chest tighten. If I didn't already hate him these cute little advances would have worked on me.

...

I held my throbbing hand by the wrist and stared down at the redness of the palm as Jacques's laughter roared all around me and I avoided Emmet's disbelieving stare. Over and over in my head I recited 'I shouldn't have done that, I shouldn't have done that.'

When Jacques's laughter calmed I looked up to find him staring at me before bursting out into another fit of laughter. I kicked his leg and he fell off the chair, but his laugh had not faltered in the slightest. If anything it grew stronger (to my amazement and annoyance). Emmet and I glared down at him and we locked eyes, but instead of blushing like any other girl would I looked away from his scolding gaze. Honestly, this guy would make a perfect father. It was completely pointless to play innocent with him; he was the one that pulled me away from her.

Finally, Jacques stopped laughing and took his seat on the chair, wiping his eyes as if he had been crying. I sent him a glare and Emmet began. "Kyla, I understand that a woman has the right to slap a man if he was rude or offending…" He trailed off, both his hands raked through his hair and down his face, as if he were embarrassed and continued "-but _why_ would you slap Christine Daae?"

I almost flinched at his tone if it weren't for Jacques's snicker. "Two within a half hour."

"Quiet Jacques." Emmet snapped and both turned to me for an explanation. Was it just me, or was I looking to my mom and dad before they were divorced? I gave a sheepish smile and scratched the back of my neck, out of both nervousness and it was itchy (it's not fun wearing a wig).

"I… I don't know why. Could we just drop it?"

Emmet crossed his arms and looked down at me in disbelief, probably ashamed that I would even suggest that and shook his head furiously. "No we can not just 'drop it'! You can lose your job for doing something like that, Kyla! What were you thinking when you slapped her?"

"Well I didn't think of anything until _after_ I slapped her…" I admitted slowly, eying Jacques as he fought back giggles. I cracked a smile, very tempted to begin laughing myself. But Emmet's expression wiped the smile off my face in an instant and he asked, "Oh? And what did you think?"

"I thought: 'Oh crap, Emmet seen me slap her' and you grabbed me before I got another shot in."

Jacques fell off his chair in a roar of laughter. I couldn't help but laugh at the scene and covered my mouth as Emmet glared down at Jacques and looked at me like he wanted to shake some sense into me. Then a smile cracked on his face and it seemed that he gave up on this little battle and he got up from his chair and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Argh, Kyla… let's just hope the managers don't hear about it." He said, taking his hand from my shoulder after giving a light squeeze and walking past to get himself something to drink, soon coming back with a cup of water. I waited until Jacques was done with his laughing fit, fighting back a yawn then rubbing the sleepiness from my eye. When I glanced up Jacques was staring at me with a quirked brow.

"What?" I snapped, not liking the sort of attention he was giving me, and making me feel like he was gawking at me.

He shook his head and leaned down on the table with his elbow setting him up. I glanced to Emmet to find he was looking at me the same way but when I turned to face him he turned away and avoided my gaze. I began to feel a little shy and self conscience and kept my gaze to the table and met with Jacques hat. "It's nothing really, this is just the first time I have seen you look so tired."

_Oh… that's it?_ I sat up straight, about to tell them I was going to go to sleep when I was cut off by my own yawn. I covered my mouth and grinned when I was finished, wiping the tears that came to my eyes. I laughed a little and jumped off my chair. "That was the first time I yawned too… I think I should go to bed. That wine is not good to drink."

I turned and walked to the door of their room.

"You had wine too?" Emmet cried out in a horrified manner, as if he was my mother making me laugh a little. I was way too tired to really put up any sort of argument at the moment. I glanced back from the door and gave a small smile and told him: "Emmet, calm down. It's not my first time drinking wine."

Walking out the door and shutting it behind me. Instead of taking a detour, like I usually did (in hopes of catching the Phantom) I headed straight to my room, and locked the door behind me.

Taking off the dress, lace, under dress, and that damned corset, I put the under dress back on; using it as a night gown and crawled into my bed. I have never thought a bed could be so… _comfortable_. I adjusted the pillows to make it feel that I was surrounded and I couldn't move. It was when I was adjusting the blanket I felt something in my bed. I moved it around with my feet, feeling it a bit and it tightened around my ankle. I was fighting to keep my eyes open when I sat up and digged within the sheets of the bed. I had it in my hand and got it from my ankle. It felt a lot like a rope. I laid back down and pulled it out of the blanket. My heart skipped a beat when I realised that I was holding The Punjab Lasso in my hand. The very same rope that was around Joseph Bouquet's neck!

...

"Kyla… Kyla, it's time to wake up."

I groaned and brought my hand to my head. I tried to open my eyes only to be partially blinded by the brightness of the room. When my eyes finally adjusted I stared up at my smiling doctor.

"Good morning, Kyla." He greeted me. That smile of his getting on my nerves, I looked around the room to find that most of the tubes and the heart monitor was not connected to me anymore. Looking down to my hand I was gripping to the IV tightly. I let go of it in disappointment and attempted to sit up, but I was gently pushed back down. I looked up to David and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. "What time is it?"

He took my wrist into his hand and eyed his watch for moment. "Eight o'clock PM…" He placed my hand back down onto the bed and took out a flashlight sort of pen and blinded my eyes one by one before he finished with a chuckle. "You've been sleeping for almost two weeks."

I rubbed my eyes before looking to him disbelief. "Two _weeks_?"

"Yes. We needed you up to start testing and so you could use the washroom." He said with a smile, writing down in clipboard.

"Why do I have to use the washroom?" I asked, moving my legs a little. They tingled in an unbearable way, I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. I grit my teeth and stopped moving altogether.

"Well you have two weeks worth of breakfast lunch and dinner in your lower intestines tha-"

"Okay, thank you." I cut him off, embarrassed that I even asked that question and blushed a deep red. He laughed and told me that there was nothing to be embarrassed about and that I shouldn't get myself excited. I didn't want to ask why and he got a female nurse to help off the bed. My whole body felt like rubber, I was having a hard time just to take one step!

Just before he was about to leave the room so I could have my privacy I stopped him.

"David."

"Yes?" He asked, keeping his back to me and stood within the door way. I was grateful he did too, otherwise he would have seen a little more thigh than I wanted. I was embarrassed just standing there and the nurse had to pull down the paper robe for me. When she was done I looked to his back and asked, "Are you putting me back into the coma?"

He stayed silent for a moment, as if thinking it over and finally replied, "After some exercise, solid foods, testing, a visit, shower and a bowel movement, yes… Did you have a bad dream?"

I blushed even more and the nurse patted my shoulder in comfort. I was almost to the door to the bathroom now.

"…you could say that." I answered slowly, remembering only some bits and pieces of the dream, but all the while I was disappointed. He chuckles and placed his hands neatly in front of him after he had put the clip board with my information on the door slot.

"The boogy man get you?"

"I was ghost hunting." I snapped defensibly. I didn't believe in a 'Boogy man'! I never - ever believed in that stupid tale. I always figured that it was only a lie my grandpa told us so we wouldn't run out at night. Bloody Mary was what I was scared of. I never liked having a mirror in my room after hearing about that. He and the nurse laughed, making me feel a little foolish.

"Oh, the ghost got you?" He asked, humouring me and making me huff. I was being serious, ghost hunting was very hard. Now I was inside the washroom and I made the nurse keep out while I… wanted some privacy.

Just before I shut the door I remember what I had found in my bed before I woke up here and groaned. "No, I couldn't catch the ghost…and I was _so_ close!"


	5. Chapter 4

**Cursed  
Chapter Four:** Do's and Don'ts

Seated on my hospital bed, with my laptop on my lap, I began to do a little research on O.G. and maybe a little on the opera house.

But google has forsaken me.

Millions, and millions of opera house links popped up and there was only fanfictions, fan art, scene pictures and lyrics that popped up when I searched on information about him and countless biographies of Gerard Butler… and the movies he acted in.

I racked my hand down my face with a groan of frustration. How is it there was so many of these fan based stories about the Opera Ghost but not one simple site of information like:

'His favourite color is red.'

'His favourite animal is Blank'

'He dislikes the word Blank'

'His real name is… Bob.'

I gave a little laugh and pulled my laptop closed before placing on the bed table next to the IV. Looking up to the liquid I grinned. This was the last IV I needed to finish with and then I was allowed to go outside and get some fresh air. Accompanied by a nurse, of course.

It took another hour and a half before a nurse came back into the room and checked my IV bag. I stared at her while my legs hung off the bed as if I was ready to make a run for it. I was excited to get in the sun. Finally she smiled at me.

I swear, that woman had the smile of an angel!

Like promised, I was taken outside (on a wheelchair). I was surprised how cold it was with the sun shining so bright but I didn't want to go back inside, so I stayed and wheeled myself down the ramp to the damp grass. My nurse wasn't far, she had to stay in the designated area to have her cigarette making it all the more enjoyable for me.

After a while I got off the wheelchair and took a seat on a bench and relaxed. Well… I would have relaxed if a cold hand hadn't made it's way down the back of my shirt, making me scream and fall off said bench with a shiver. But I wasn't mad. I recognised that laugh anywhere.

I grinned up to Oliver as he helped my off the ground and put me back on the bench.

"So how's my baby sister doing?" He asked taking a seat in my wheelchair, wearing the same grin I had.

I remember when we would get into a fight and call each other ugly. It was funny, because we were often told that we could pass for twins. (It was hilarious when we moved onto 'yo mama' insults. Oliver always won when he moved from 'yo mama' to 'yo face'.) We never had an actual fight though. It was mostly for fun and to make ourselves laugh or to get past the awkwardness after a real fight.

Oliver and I sat there for a while, visiting and telling each other what we've been up to. He had more to talk about since I was sleeping the whole time we've been apart. He was telling me about his girl troubles when he suddenly asked, "Are they feeding you?"

I blinked at the random question and gave a little laugh.

"Of course they're feeding me. I don't think a hospital would let a patient starve." I retorted as if he asked the dumbest question I've ever heard.

He gave me a long, hard look. Waiting until I was done laughing at him before he glanced behind us.

"Where's the nurses?" He asked and stood up.

"Oh, my nurse is… gone?" I said quizzically, looking back to the smoking area and found that my nurse ditched me outside.

I looked around the front to see if another nurse was sent out to take her place, but only seen the visitors, a janitor and some other patients outside with us.

"…well, that's nice." I commented sarcastically, making Oliver snicker.

"So what are they feeding you?" He asked through his snickering.

"Through a tube… Other than that strawberry milkshake looking stuff, I'm not sure what they've been feeding me- Oh! I got toast and some oatmeal when I woke up." I told him and gave an unneeded head nod for confirmation.

His eyes narrowed and he shook his head.

"These fucking doctors know what we got and they're still not feeding you meat?" He asked, sounding harsh. I straightened my back. Somewhat shocked at his sudden mood swing, narrowing my eyes as well. "Don't look at me like it's my fault. It's mom that signs those requirement slips and papers."

He gave a nod and mumbled an apology before picking me off my seat, making me let out a short scream and setting me into the wheel chair. "What the hell?" I asked, looking up at him as he pushed me along. He only glanced down at me and rolled my out to the parking lot.

There, he parked me between two vans. I was going to ask what he was doing until he put his hand on my knee and squatted down to my eye level, digging into his pockets. I felt uncomfortable at first, glancing around to be sure no one was looking to see this. Oliver was doing the same but for a different reason and finally took out a rolled up foil ball from his pocket and set it in my lap.

Looking up to him with a raised brow, he didn't meet my gaze and shifted nervously. His odd behaviour made me curious to see what was in the foil and at the same time suspicious. What the hell was he giving me?

So I ripped open the foil carefully and slumped in slight disappointment to be staring down at oddly shaped bacon. The way he was acting, I thought he was offering me drugs or something of the same sort. (Don't get me wrong. I'm against drugs as much as the next… goody-two-shoes?) I gave out a laugh and looked up to him with a raised brow. "You brought me to the parking lot to have some bacon?"

He narrowed his eyes and glanced around. "Hurry up and eat it. I don't want to be banned from a hospital."

"I didn't know someone can be banned from a hospital." I retorted with a snicker and rolling my eyes, I stared down at the bacon.

The smell wafted up to my nose and my mouth almost immediately watered. I didn't think twice and did as I was told and ate the bacon… though, it didn't taste at all, like bacon. Forcing myself to swallow, Oliver took the foil and hid it under one of the vans before grinning at me.

"How'd you like it? …I fried it this time, so it tastes better, right?" He asked hopefully, staring down at me with puppy eyes. How could someone his age and gender be able to successfully give the puppy eyes? I guiltily smiled up at him and nodded, making his smile widen all the more.

But that was I noticed that there was something wrong with my brother. His skin looked broken and dry near the base of his neck and the skin was lifting and curling up. His eyes where the white should be was a pale yellow and his lips looked painfully chapped. Even his canines looked less vampiric. What the hell is happening to him?

Before I can ask or comment on his skin we both looked back to the front of the hospital when the intercom sounded, David's voice ringing out for a missing 'Kyla Crowe'. I rolled my eyes and turned the wheelchair around, so my back was to Oliver and pointed forwards in a bossy fashion. "Take me back."

I heard him chuckle and the wheelchair lurched forward as we started moving. Heading back into the building, Oliver thought it was a good idea to start running. So this resulted in us rushing through the doors, down the hall and into an elevator.

The entire time I was laughing and screaming for Oliver to stop. When he came to a sudden stop in the elevator, I jerked forward and had to stop myself with my hands before my face came into contact with the wall inside the elevator, making Oliver and I laugh even harder.

The other man in the elevator looked nervous and tried not to stare. Oliver snickered when he practically ran out of the elevator when we reached the fourth floor.

We reached the sixth floor and I wheeled myself out, shoving Oliver to the side to make room for myself. In return he pushed my wheelchair from behind and I zoomed through the hallway with a laugh, almost knocking over a scowling Doctor.

I smiled sheepishly and felt Oliver grip the chair from the back, muttering a half-assed apology, glaring at David mercilessly before pushing me past and taking me to my hospital room. Inside Jeff and dad waited for us, watching some police program.

They jumped up when they noticed us. Jeff quickly gave me a one armed hug and asked if I was feeling better. I shook the arm of the wheel chair. "Do I look alright?" I asked sarcastically before giving him a hug. I looked to my dad and seen the horrified expression on his face as he stood frozen, staring at the wheelchair.

I almost laughed, and opened my mouth to tell him I was only weak until I heard my mother's laughter coming from the hall. I looked back to the door and she walked in, arm linked with David. Her smile dropped as she seen us all staring and fidgeted nervously before focusing her attention to me. She gave a shocked gasp and rushed to me, putting her hands on my face worriedly, asking David what was wrong with me.

I glared and shrugged her hands off my face. When I looked up to David I realised he was watching me. "I'm going to have to ask you all to leave. Kyla is still too… sensitive and I wouldn't want her to suffer an embarrassing _accident_."

"But they just got here. I haven't seen them for awhile." I argued (desperately), and got hugged. I turned and seen it was only my dad and hugged him back.

"It's alright Kyla. We'll be back when you're feeling better." He said and kissed my forehead gingerly.

After that, Oliver kissed my cheek and I pretended to be grossed out making him laugh, then they all left the room. Leaving me and David behind.

He took my file off the door and glanced over to me as he opened it and got his pen out. I was openly glaring daggers, wishing that I had the power to kill people just by looking at them!

He finally had enough with my glaring and sighed, writing in the file before putting it back. "I'm sorry, Kyla. But its best tha-"

"When are you putting me back to sleep?" I snapped, cutting him off.

He was taken aback for a moment, then scowled.

"You will be sedated in forty-eight hours after you woke up. I suggest you go to sleep." He said through gritted teeth and stomped from the room, sending a nurse back inside to take me to the washroom before helping back in my bed.

I couldn't sleep. I laid there for a while, waiting for a nurse to shut the door before I sat up and pulled my laptop back. During that time just laying there, I ultimately decided I would get my information on the Opera Ghost from FanFictions. If they could write all these stories with the ghost, they must know a thing or two about him and the Opera house itself. So it would make finding him a lot easier… I might be able to set a trap if I know what the hell I'm doing.

Looking through the titles and mini summaries of the stories, I couldn't find one that caught my eye until I narrowed the results. Switching the status from 'All' to 'Complete'. Bringing a… very small list of results, but made my eyes bulge out of my sockets when I seen how many chapters there were to each story. "76 Chapters?"

"Hey, Kyla!" Someone hissed, startling me and I shut my laptop. I admit that I must have looked like I was panicking for looking at no-no things (Porn).

I heard a deep chuckle and the door shut and the light coming from the TV made it hard to see who it was and I got scared …until Oliver took a seat next to me on the bed with an accusing smirk, making my face turn red.

"What are you doing here? Visiting hours were over three hours ago."

"Calm down. I came to give you something." He said and dug into his pocket.

I cringed, not wanting another piece of that meat. But to my surprise and great pleasure, he held a bottle of (half drunken) Pepsi. A wide grin spread on my lips as I took the bottle from his hands and quickly took a nice, long shot. My eyes tearing at the slight harshness of the bubbles in my throat, but the taste made it all worth it. It was months since I had some! I wiped my mouth with a satisfied grin, ignoring the slight after taste of metallic and copper and looked to Oliver- who was grinning just as widely as I was. He gave me a quick hug and turned to the door.

"I have to go before dad sees I'm gone. I'll leave you to your pron." He said with a snicker. Probably knowing full well that I wasn't looking for porn, but just enjoyed torturing his younger sister like any other older brother.

Smiling after the door, I hid the bottle under the covers and brought the laptop back. Going back to my research about the Opera Ghost.

…

I didn't know how long I was up reading.

I didn't know what the time was.

I did not care.

I love Phanfictions!

The entire time, my eyes were glued to my screen. Every so often I would unconsciously rein act the character's reactions and facial expressions. Cover my mouth when she would go through something embarrassing. Laugh aloud when something was funny. Quote phrases. Gasp in shock. Smirk when the Phantom (whose accidental name was Erik) had her in a bind or caught her red handed.

I even _blushed_ at one point! And I was only up to chapter 18!

I couldn't get enough of it. Erik was amazing and surprisingly hot when he's angered-especially when he pins her against the wall. I didn't even mind that the 'she' in the story was Meg Giry.

It wasn't until David's voice slapped me out of my reading that I realised there were nurses in the room, with various tubes and a new IV. I groaned in protest and frantically looked from my laptop to the people in the room, shaking my head.

"I'm not done! One more day, I have to finish this first!" I begged, making them all chuckle at my efforts.

"My, aren't we chipper this morning?" He commented with a smile, approaching my bedside as I was trying to read at fast as I can, but watched in horror as David softly closed my laptop. "It will be there when you wake up Kyla."

"But! H-he was _this close_ to kissing her and I still don't know what her big secret is!" I emphasized, using exaggerated hand gestures gripping his white coat in an overly dramatic desperate manner. "I must know!"

He chuckled shaking his head, mumbling something about girls and there love stories before walking out of the room, drawing the curtain. Leaving me and the nurses to get ready for my… poison. One nurse began with the monitors and setting up the IV while the other worked with my… tubes. Assuring me that I would be fast asleep before shoving the food tube down my throat (Another exaggeration, but that is what they practically do).

Embarrassed to my very core, I had my face covered as the nurse set me up so casually. Humming a little tune happily.

"No need to be so shy. We are all female here." She tried to assure me, to get me to relax but to no avail for I was too focused on what was hurting me so badly.

She gave a sigh before mumbling an 'oh dear'. I bolted upright in fear at that, only for the other nurse to push me back down with a casual smile.

"I love to read myself, and I haven't come across a good love story in a long time. How is the story going so far?" she asked.

I reluctantly and hesitantly relaxed and began to tell her the tale, and before long I was set up and the two women listened intently. Doing the exact same things I was while I read it. I couldn't believe she was making me speak while God knows what is being done to me. I could easily say with no exaggeration that this situation is as embarrassing as talking to your mother while using the bathroom.

"-and in the actual movie his love for her bordered on _insanity_ and at one point kidnapped her! What's more romantic than that?" I asked, my voice sounding as giddy as I felt. The nurse was finished with my down area long before I had finished.

It wasn't until David returned with a sharp knock that I had to cut the retelling short. The nurses looking just as disappointed as I was and one pulled the privacy curtain back and revealed a smiling David holding a needle up in his hand.

"Ready to hunt your ghost?" he asked humorously.

I gave a reluctant nod and lay back into the pillow as he came to my bedside, taking the IV tube. I turned away, not wanting to watch like last time, hoping that I was avoiding the pain somehow. I looked to the nurse, she watched closely to what he was doing. The other nurse gone.

I gasped in pain as the burning sensation coursed through my arm and into my skull. The nurse came to my bed side in a hurry and asked what story I had been reading. I would have laughed, but I eyes began to shut on there own. "The Phantom o…"

I don't remember if I finished my sentence. But when I opened my eyes again I was in a very soft bed within an empty room.

I wondered if this was the same moment I fell asleep, pushing myself up. My feet connected with the cold floor and I bent to retrieve my shoes, then froze. Wrapped around my wrist was the Punjab lasso.

I felt butterflies flutter in my stomach and my heart jumped. I backed from the bed slowly, and pulled. The rope end making it's way to the edge of the bed from under the blanket and fell to the floor with a soft patter. I loosened it from my wrist and stared down at it in my hands with wide eyes.

This was proof he was here. And I was going to take it to The Persian and get him to take me to him. (Since I didn't know how to get there.) I broke into a grin, putting the lasso onto the dresser and quickly began to get myself dressed. Putting on a white dress shirt, tucking it into a black dress pants, wrapping an odd silk sash around my waist, then came the dark leather, knee high boots.

I took a step back from the dresser, taking at look at myself and found that I was dressed like the Phantom near the end of the movie when he took Christine to his lair and almost kills Raoul… or was I dressed like Meg? Tilting my head, I found no difference between the outfits and the one I'm wearing now and felt like I was stealing a fashion. Oh, well. It wasn't like there were other girls wearing men's clothes around here. But my wig was a mess.

I sighed, regretting ever thinking of sleeping with the wig and tried to comb through it. I was going to find the Opera ghost tonight no matter what. If the Phanfictions are true then there is bound to be a secret door of some kind inside of Box 5. I took a deep breath. I am going to meet Erik. I need to make a good impression. I need to keep calm… no fan-girl business.

A wide grin made it's way to my face and I started to laugh, feeling butterflies rising in my stomach. I'm going to meet the Phantom of the Opera today!

"And he knows where I sleep!" I sang out, jumping up and down. I purposely ignored the creepy-ness of what I just sang. I don't want to ruin the moment.

I grabbed the Punjab lasso from the dresser and shut the door behind me. As I walked down the darkened hallway, I brought my hand to the level of my eyes with a wicked grin, making my way to Box 5.

And then… I began to have second thoughts, thinking back on what happened to the girls that ran into the box, and it was staring back at me as if to mock me. One of their first mistakes was going in there without consent.

I thumbed over the rope in my hand and rested my hand upon my head, being careful not to mess up the wig. I should have made a 'Do's and Don't's' list first.

Glancing down to the thick rope in my hand I paled and smiled nervously. The first thing on my list is NOT returning the Punjab to a man that, I assumed, left it in my room as a threat.

"Ugh… I have to apologise to Daae, don't I?" I grumbled, turning on my heel from the door and made my way back towards my room. By the time I made it back to my darkened room I had one question in mind: How do I get the Phantom to notice me?

In Phanfics most OC's can either dance or sing.

There's no way in hell I would dance and I couldn't sing opera… I don't have the lung power. I always sang country or rock songs… I could never say that I was good, but there were no complaints and there was some applause. Even if it was Jeff for dad, that has to count for something, right? …no.

Maybe if I played an instrument fairly well? I was pretty good with piano. But there was a big difference between piano keys and a laptop keyboard… and I couldn't read music sheets.

Or… I could steal his thunder. Take his spot light. I have yet to meet a male that did like being out-done by a female, and I doubt Erik was any different. I already had a reputation of being a 'witch' and most people here already fear me. Being friends with The Persian making it all the better. I could easily have the Diva of the Opera house wrapped around my finger. She practically runs the stage when the Phantom isn't around and has the managers wrapped around her fingers. And I know that Carlotta wants to make a 'Mini-me' out of me, she even suggested that she can give me singing lessons (Yes, that made me laugh too). Emmet and Jacques could help me, they being stage hands- both knew what to do for certain illusions and such for scenes. I could scare the crap out of all of them and make them forget about the Phantom for a little while! He would definitely not stand for that! He needed to be feared so his dear little Christine-angel-yuck can have her voice heard.

Wait. Even if I do get his attention, there was that little fact that I slapped the love of his life for a reason that hasn't even happened yet. Fuck!

Palm-facing myself, I slumped onto my bed and let both my hands fall to the sheets, the lasso falling onto the floor with a soft thump. I began to run my foot along the rope as I groaned in dismay.

"I gotta get started on that list." I told myself and looked around my room. My pitch black room?

I made a squeaked 'huh?' of confusion and looked around more, just to be sure that I didn't go blind. When I left the room the candle was still burning. I pushed myself to the edge of the bed and noticed that the rope I had playing with my foot is gone.

"What the fuc-" The bed shifted behind me like someone was crawling on and I paled, stiffened, panic engulfing my body; preparing me into the fight or flight stage. Whoever this was was pretty stealthy and quiet… and reeked like the morgue. Without a doubt in my mind, I slowly brought my hand back up to the level of my eyes and began to take in deep breaths.

_And… I'm going to be Punjabbed.  
_

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A/N

So, what are your thoughts on this 'Do's and Don'ts' list? Any suggestions? Or are you going to leave me hanging? (…no pun intended. XD)  
Thank you to those who reviewed.

Funny pic I seen on Deviantart:

**[Erik is sleeping on a comfy bed and there is a girl standing over him with a really big grin on her face, just beaming down at him.]**  
**Erik:** ...what are you doing?  
**Girl:** Watching you sleep. :D  
**Erik:** And they say I'm creepy.


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Wow, I didn't realise how creepy cannibalism was until I read the review from Raine44354. Lol. Thank you to those that left a review!

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**Cursed**

**Chapter Five:** New Collar & Matching Bracelets

The thick braided rope was brought down over my head and immediately tightened around my neck. The action was so fast that I was only given time to fill my lungs with air and my scream was cut short, replaced with a gagging sound and I was yanked back harshly, my legs kicking over the edge of the bed. But when I looked up towards the darkened ceiling of the bed, my fear increased tenfold when my eyes met a pair of _glowing_ yellow eyes!

_What the fuck? _THIS was not the Phantom I was looking for! The Phantom I read up on DID NOT harm girls! Who the hell is this and what the hell is he doing in my room? Better yet: What the hell is he doing trying to kill me the way The _real_ Phantom would?

Call me an obsessive phan-girl all you want. This offended me.

Thankful that I had my hand up, I squeezed my other hand through the rope and my neck and pushed them apart as hard as I could. This guy's hold hardly budged, but at least now I was able to get a few deep breaths before sliding my body off the edge of the bed like a spaghetti noodle. I was seated on my knees on the floor and the rope yanked me back, forcing my head to fall back onto the mattress. I pushed myself forward with all my strength. My hands pushed the rope away from my neck and the rest of me pulled the rope along behind me at a very slow but steady pace. _Damnit, I think this guy was toying with me because there was no more yanking._ When I dubbed myself far enough I stopped and twisted my body around so I was facing the bed and put my feet on the wooden frame for leverage so I can get the rope off my neck. The eyes stared back at me and my eyes adjusted enough to make out his silhouette on the bed.

He was tall and very thin, wearing a large hat and seemed to have been formal wear under that large cape of his. Kneeling on his knees and clutching the rope in his boney hands his eyes narrowed and he pulled the rope back viciously. He caught me sizing him up. I made another choked sound as the rope tightened around my neck and pinched at my skin.

You know when you stop thinking and do something incredibly stupid but it works out in the end? That's what happened.

I remember _stupidly_ getting my hands out of the noose, letting it tighten around my neck and then grabbing onto the rope in front of me before throwing myself backwards; using my legs to gain extra momentum by using my legs like a spring. Then the rope came loose and a body collided with mine. It hurt like a bitch. This guy's long, skinny and surprisingly heavy body landing ungracefully onto mine; probably bruising me in places I didn't know I had. I almost screamed because I felt his _ribcage_ beneath my fingertips when I was about to shove him off but that big ass hat of his fell over my face…it smells like a pond.

We both froze; total freeze frame moment. I froze because it was my first time feeling a ribcage besides my own and after the squeamishness is gone it was…awesome. Like one of those skeletons you buy as a Halloween ornament…only it has clothes on and you can feel it breathing.

My guess as to why he froze was because the person he was trying to kill is feeling up his chest. Must have been embarrassing for any murderer.

Imagine: _Bad ass serial killer Michael Myers (from Halloween) has been chasing down this girl to kill, she is beaten, bloody and he already killed her boyfriend. When he has her down and is about to snap her neck or something… she's suddenly all over him-feeling him up like it's her first date and she was on Viagra._

A very awkward killing spree indeed. Poor serial killers everywhere would have to go to group therapy sessions for being molested on the job.

The next thing I knew the rope was ripped off my neck and I'm lying on the floor alone. My hip, thigh, shoulder and abdomen hurt in a dull throb and all I could smell was pond water. Oh, and not to mention my head felt like it was pulsing, my neck was sore and most likely bruised.

"What the hell just happened?" I asked myself aloud and gave a wince. My voice sounded like I had a nasty cold and it hurt to talk.

I pushed myself off the floor and my wig was slipping off. I just ripped it off as my eyes darted all around my room in bewilderment, bringing my free hand up to my neck. I can feel the rope marks and it stung in some places. Turning to my dresser I started feeling around for a match to light the candle… Argh, I wish I could just turn it on with a switch or a button instead of searching for a match first…_There we go…_Now, with some light in the room I could the damage Mr. Skellington had caused…_Holy shit. _If I were a cartoon character my eyes would have popped out of my skull, would have been the size of dinner plates and my jaw would have hit the floor.

My face, my eyes were red and looked fat. My lips were blue, around my mouth was white, there are tears in my eyes and my neck had rope marks. You could actually _see_ where the rope was and the marks were turning purple and blue, the worst of it was the back because that is where most of the rope burns resided. The same goes for my wrists; they were bruising, tender and had matching rope burns.

My real hair was messed and the green of it was as colourful as ever, making me inwardly smile. It hasn't gotten any longer, thank God. It would be a pain to try force more hair into the wig, it made my head heavy and itchy enough as it was and my damn scalp needed to breathe. I shakily sighed and put the wig down onto the vanity table in front of the mirror and started to fix my shirt collar. Crap, how am I going to hide this? Were turtle neck shirts invented yet? Damnit, if I can't hide these would they call for the police? They (the people that work here) blame everything on the Phantom, I don't want them pointing the police in the right direction. He would hate _me_ for it and any chances I have now for meeting him would be all shot to hell!

I turned away from the mirror and ran my fingers through my hair while groaning in dismay. From the other side of the door I could hear that some people were already out and about, meaning Carlotta would force me out of here to go eat breakfast in another hour or so. I'm running out of time! And I don't want to be on Carlotta's crap diet! I turned back to the mirror before I started pacing around in my room like a caged animal and plopped down onto the chair, keeping my hands over my eyes and resting my elbows on the table top. Was the fat, red face thing permanent? I let my hand slip downwards, allowing my hands to run over my face and pull back my hair until my face was exposed. My face wasn't red anymore but my eyes were still watery and my lips were starting to turn back to their normal color. Maybe if I smile a lot more no one will pay any mind to my battered neck?

I forced a smile in the mirror to test my idea and the first thing I noticed was my teeth, because they looked like carnivorous fangs. I almost face palmed and let my shoulders slump dejectedly. I used my tongue to feel said fangs; they felt like needle points and it stung if I pressed my tongue against it for too long. The old kid stories of the boogie man and the monster under the bed came to mind… the red glowing eyes and the sharp rows of teeth. I felt tears starting to well in my eyes when I realised that my smile would only scare people…

...

'_The witch made a pact with the Opera Ghost_' was the newest rumour now that everyone has seen the new blue and purple collar that Mr. OG-Wannabe had left on me. The matching bracelets were hidden beneath my shirt sleeves so no one seen those yet. On the bright side no one had even bothered to bring up the police in conversation. Yes, the staff and workers of this Opera house adore and love me so much…didn't want to ask if I was okay or anything. They just gasped and stared, pointing their fingers. It was awesome because they all parted a path for me where ever I go, but did they have to gawk? This place makes me feel so uncomfortable sometimes. How the hell did that 'witch' thing start anyways? I didn't mind it in the first place because it got the annoying girls and most of the people around the opera house to leave me alone and keep a 'safe' distance but being talked about was getting on my nerves. I admit that I like being feared, there was a sort of thrill and feeling of power that made me giddy. But being shooed away with crosses, crucifixes and what I think is holy water was going over board. Was I supposed to burn or hiss at them when they make a cross with their fingers? 'Cause they seemed shocked when I stare at them like their crazy and everything is in an awkward silence.

I'm even being blamed for all the accidents and what goes wrong during rehearsals, and then the managers and Carlotta even had the nerve to come up to me and ask that I go sit somewhere else… And I was actually hoping to work for her today! You know to get my mind off of the murder attempt? But they were all too scared to carry on their practice if I'm on the stage.

Now I feel like a freak...or I'm in high school. Carlotta had walked off the stage a little while ago, yelling at the managers for letting something like this happen to me. I was flattered that she cared so much until she brought up that dress she bought me and said that there was no amount of make up in the world to cover my bruise. I face palmed.

So now I was fuming in a seat in the audience, glaring at the stage as the ballet girls did their practices. Maybe if I glared hard enough they will all drop like flies.

You know what? Let them think I'm a witch. Let them ALL think I'm a witch. They will feel so stupid after I prove to them that I am not a witch. I don't know any real magic, just some tricks I learned watching tv like making magnetic rocks, making your arms rise on their own, making it feel like I'm pulling a needle and thread out of the palm of your hand, some card tricks and making you think I know what your thinking. It's all stupid tricks that could be scientifically explained.

Wait…I was the one being blamed for all these accidents, not the Phantom. Oh wow, I was stealing his thunder without realising it. How dumb am I?

_I guess this means I stick to that plan…oh yeah, and that 'do's and don'ts' list…_I glance up towards the top of the stage where the rafters were hidden behind the curtain top and could imagine the Phantom standing there, ready to drop a sand bag or something onto one of the ballet girls. The mental image made me giggle evilly and I sat up in my seat, resting my chin on top of the back rest of the seat in front of me. I caught some of the ballet girls giving me fearful looks and whispering to one another as they lined up to do their little twirls again, causing my grin to immediately fall and send them a dirty look. I decided to make them nervous for the hell of it, and you know how I achieved this?

…I waved my finger around, keeping it pointed to the stage as they practiced.

It was cheap and hardly threatening but it got the job done. They couldn't even do their run and jump things because they all were waiting for something bad to happen. I couldn't believe how fun it was just to see them all squirm under my gaze and it made me grin wickedly.

What I didn't count on was that giant sheet of paper that had a scenery painted onto it falling on top of the whole stage like a great big blanket.

My grin fell and I blanched in my seat, stopping my finger in a mid wave. _Oh shit. _

Ever so slowly, I stood up from my seat and turned away from the stage to get out of there. I ignored all the fearful, accusing looks from the cleaning women that had seen everything, along with the screams and wails coming from the stage as I made my way out of the auditorium. I underestimated those silly rumours, I can't even begin to imagine the crap these people would come up with thanks to this…I might even develop a new phobia for fire and pitch forks.

Entering the grand foyer I glanced over my shoulder to check for any more gawking staff. This time of age wasn't too far gone from those witch trials. What if they tie me to a pole and set me on fire? Or tie me to a chair and throw me in a river? _Damnit Kyla, shut up or you'll give me a panic attack!_

My shoulder was suddenly grabbed. I let out a startled yelp before ripping my arm from hold roughly and throwing myself back against the wall with a loud _thump_ (did I mention I was a drama queen at the weirdest times?). I calmed when I seen a bemused Persian staring back at me along with a curious looking Darius.

I sighed in relief and placed my hand over my poor heart. "Damnit, do any of you know how to make sound when you walk?"

The Persian smiled in an amused way, giving a light chuckle at my question and looked over in the direction I had just ran from. People were still screaming and sounded like the managers were throwing a fit. His expression turned to grave concern, and before he could ask me anything I was leaving again.

"I-I have to disappear for a little while." I quickly stuttered out. I was easily stopped when the Persian cleared his throat and Darius blocked my escape exit.

He invited me for a light lunch, but to me it came off as a demand. I wasn't given enough time to give the okay or the 'I don't have money' speech and I was escorted out of the Opera House between the both of them. It reminded me of how body guards would protect a celebrity. Where they took me wasn't very far. Infact it was just across the street from the opera house, a small café that looked to be in very good business. The Persian got a small table outside since the weather was nice…well he said it was nice. I thought it was a little nippy. Maybe he wanted to sit outside because there were less people. Darius disappeared when we entered the place, leaving me alone with the Persian and leaving us to be stared at by the other customers and the people walking by. I think they were mainly staring at the Persian though and I refused to believe that people thought we were a couple. That was face palm worthy by itself. Neither of us spoke until our orders were taken…I got coffee, cream and extra sugar with some toffee. He got coffee; black and a pastry I couldn't pronounce. And this _whole_ time he was staring at my neck and looked down at me like a dad would his daughter after she got back from a date she didn't tell him about. Glaring disapprovingly and being completely silent. My own dad did that to me a few times when I broke something or if I was lying to his face…and I broke down every time…just like I'm about to now. I hated it when it was my fault dad would be upset. At first I thought my green hair was poking out of the wig or thought he was psychic and knew about my disease, but those thoughts left after he didn't take his eyes off my neck. _He was acting more vampire than I do._ I could feel my eyes beginning to burn and water up a little, and there was a painful lump growing in my throat. _Damnit, I'm not going to cry!_ I couldn't take it anymore and broke the silence with a sigh, which was meant to sound aggravated or annoyed but came out sounding like a choked sob. I tried to cover it up with a cough. _God I'm a suck._

"So, why are you just staring at me?" I asked without keeping eye contact. Keeping my gaze on the building corner behind him and seen Darius standing there. _So that's where he went._

He didn't reply for a long time, making me feel more nervous and bringing me closer and closer to letting a few tears fall. Then finally he let out a sigh and shook his head. "I don't suppose I need to ask how you've acquired such an injury."

I caught myself before I blurted out 'I walked into a door' or 'I fell' and just shook my head slowly. I doubt he would understand the humour in those phrases if I said it out loud. I looked up at him and felt guilty. He went quiet again and looked so worried and angry. I wanted to give the big guy a hug.

"Well…" I started, not exactly knowing what I was going to say next and The Persian looked up at me. I raised my hands to the level of my eyes and _tried_ to give a reassuring smile.

"I kept my hands at the level of my eyes?" I stated sheepishly.

I was trying to reassure him, not make him even more worried. His hand suddenly shot out and grabbed my wrists, bringing them closer to his face to inspect them. I let out a small yelp of surprise and I was forced up and onto my feet with half my body leaning over the table. I would have face palmed if my wrists weren't in his hands and let out a small groan instead. _He's looking at the bruises on your wrists. Way to go, Kyla. You suck at reassuring people! _I just let my head hang between my shoulders as he looked them over, mumbling to himself in a different language. I think he was swearing. I felt him push my sleeves up higher. His hands suddenly loosened around my wrists when he tensed and let out a horrified gasp. _Uh oh_.

My head shot up quickly and I seen that his mouth was set in a tight line and his eyes were slightly wider than usual. He was looking at the scars on my wrist, but they weren't scars. They looked fresh and were scabbed over. _What the hell?_

I felt my heart plummet into my stomach and ripped myself out of his hold, quickly hiding my wrists under the table and pulled my sleeves back down.I could hear my heart beating wildly in my ears as I stared down at my lap. My bangs had fallen over, hiding my face from The Persian's view and couldn't be more thankful for the little wall.

I didn't know what to do or what to say now…do I tell him or just hope that he would mind his own business? Shit, what if he thinks I came out of a mental hospital… Wait, _did_ they have asylums back in this time? …Damnit, the one time I need Wikipedia.

The waiter returned with what we ordered before the silence between us had become too much, but I don't think The Persian was hungry anymore and I suddenly didn't want my toffee. I could feel my face burning now as I sat up straight and stirred my coffee. The cups were so tiny for coffee; like tea cups. Someone didn't invent a coffee mug yet. The brew gave off a really nice aroma, too burnt smelling to be called heavenly but it was good enough. It didn't taste too bad and warmed me up a bit. The toffee I ordered came in a makeshift bag made of brown paper and tied with a red ribbon like a candy bag. Braving a glance, I looked up to the Persian and seen that he was staring thoughtfully into his coffee with a very serious expression with both hands respectively folded in front of him and holding his coffee cup. The pastry he ordered came on brown paper bags too, seated upon it like a plate…they looked like bread but smelled sweet and were in a weird half moon shape. I felt guilty.

I looked away and took another sip of my coffee. The top was cold but beneath it was almost scorching and despite the burn it gave to my tongue it felt great going down my throat. That silence I wanted to avoid was settling over us again and I was beginning to fidget in my seat. I need to leave or break the silence, but my mouth opened before I thought of anything to say. "I'm sorry."

His eyes jumped up to me so fast and the seriousness within them was so intimidating I almost flinched in my chair. _Was this guy a cop?_

"And why do you feel the need to apologise to me?" he asked, sitting up straight and putting all his attention on me.

Wow, he just _knew_ how to make someone _squirm_. I bit on my bottom lip a little and looked back down at my cup. "Because no one was supposed to see it and you…I just never wanted you to know." I admitted quietly and took another sip. The coffee's soothing effect had worn off a little and got a tad colder.

"Why would you do that to yourself? _That_ is what I don't understand." He said almost angrily. His voice held authority and his question was demanding. I felt like I was being yelled at.

"…because I'm sick." I replied, sounding as small and weak as I felt.

I heard him breathe in deeply and took a sip of his coffee. When he put the cup down he asked me, in a softer tone. "What hospital did you say you came from?"

My head snapped up again and I shook my head quickly, even waving my hands and managed to put on a nervous smile. "No, no, no, no. You took that the wrong way. What I have isn't contagious, I was born with it. It runs in my family but right now it's just me and my brother that have it…" I explained to him, the same way I explained it to Carlotta in one breath. He seemed a little unconvinced yet and I couldn't help but dead pan a little bit. "And no, I'm not insane. I still have all my marbles."

He gave a nod and looked back to his coffee, taking another long sip. It was clear to me that he was thinking, and then it occurred to me that since he seen the cuts on my wrist what if he thought the rope burns were from me too? He thinks me as suicidal. _Shit._

"What does this have to do with these self inflictions?" He asked.

I was staring down at my bag of toffee and sighed. Might as well tell him everything, it's not like anyone would believe him at the Opera house. They all avoid him like the plague too. "Look, I'll tell you everything if you promise not to treat me any different and you will take me to meet the Opera Ghost…"

I paused to see his reaction and his eyes had hardened at the same time his shoulders stiffened as if he was ready to give me a big lecture.

"Or if we were somewhere else, and I could show you." I added quickly, not wanting to stay (or get) on his bad side. The man almost made me cry just through talking, I can't imagine how I would be if he started yelling.

"I give you my word." He said with all seriousness that made me smile. With those five words I felt I could trust him with any secret…though because of our obvious gender and age differences I don't think I would end up telling him every little thing. _Oh my God, did he just agree? _

"But I will not take you to see _him_…" He added, as if reading my mind and my hopes were dashed again. But I caught the way he said 'him' right away, and I didn't like it. It was the same way some professors and interns would talk about me and Oliver. They would never call us by our names and only entered our rooms if there were others with him/her, as if we would attack at any moment. I know that they were scared of us but they could have been a little more professional about it. At one point a man came and looked at our teeth and asked for blood samples. I heard him talking to some other doctors and said that we could be living proof to the theory of evolution…he might as well have called me a monkey to my face. Asshole. All of them are complete assholes.

Right now I'm hoping that The Persian would keep to his word and not treat me differently. Besides Carlotta, Jacques and Emmet, he is the only one I can talk to and makes me feel…grounded. He is like a father figure to me…besides; the other three don't really want me around them when I'm being gawked at. I seen Jacques and Emmet in the crowd this morning and they turned away. Hell yes I'm going to kick them both so hard they will be the ugliest girls in the Opera House! And Carlotta probably likes that I'm getting so much attention and doesn't really care if it's bad, just as long as no one's throwing stones my way.

"When you are done we will go." He told me and brought his cup to his lips. I nodded and looked down to my cup, slowly becoming more puzzled than nervous. Why do I suddenly want to taste copper? I want to have a penny to put in my mouth.


	7. Chapter 6

**I'm going to shed some light on Kyla and Oliver's case of Porphyria.**

**Quote:** _"Porphyria is a very rare genetic disorder and is not contagious. It may have developed among the European nobility due to inbreeding. _

_In 1964 it was proposed that porphyria might be an explanation for werewolf legends. Twenty-one years later, chemist David Dolphin proposed that porphyria might explain vampire legends_. _It was later refuted by other professionals, due to the fact that the only form of porphyria which could have been likened to vampirism was the **rarest form**, occurring in very few people throughout history._

_So why the link between porphyria and vampirism? Because the symptoms could be compared with the description of Stoker's DRACULA (sensitivity to sunlight). However, there is no **evidence** that porphyrics have any sort of craving to drink blood. Although it has been conjectured that eating garlic might be harmful to them, it is not. _

_In short, the hullabaloo over most cases of porphyria and vampirism was simply a media overreaction which negatively affected the lives of porphyrics by associating them with vampirism." _– End Quote (Way to go Nadir. XD)

**Porphyria of the rarest form – Oliver and Kyla La'Crow  
**In their case the Disease did not reveal itself until they became a certain age, starting with Oliver (at age 10). Before that time their bodies did not show any physical signs besides their abnormal canines (their teeth) which was not concerning at the time.  
With Oliver it began with abdominal pains, 'tummy aches'. (Remember Kyla mentioning that her brother was 'sick' and 'pale' one morning?) Oliver was also the first to taste and fully digest human flesh/blood and then introduced it to Kyla as a Christmas present. In turn Kyla craved for it and without it she was succumbing to the same mental instability as her late aunt and turned to suicide as a scapegoat. Her attempt failed and came back to her senses after she had drunk her own blood. (It was written off as a moment of insanity)  
To be frank, **they crave for what their bodies lack which is the oxygen-carrying properties of haemoglobin (the 'red' ingredient found in blood and certain organs of the human body such as the heart, lungs and liver).** There are certain substitutes for the 'red' ingredient they need, like how some people use tofu as a meat alternative, but it does not satisfy the body. The medicinal alternatives have been proven to be very harmful (Iron pills).  
Being without the ingredient their bodies need could lead to mental instability, physical mutilation/disfigurement (nose, ears, fingers, eyelids, skin, and an excess of body hair).  
By keeping them under surveillance, on medication and keeping them on a strict diet their 'levels' could be controlled enough to avoid anymore physical changes (teeth is held accountable as a disfigurement). The symptoms that are being carefully watched are dehydration, high metabolism, unexplainable fatigue, sudden extreme sensitivity to light, and minor skin problems.  
Oliver accepts his disease and neglects/avoids treatment. It is unknown how he is getting the human meat from, but will become clear in later chapters.  
Kyla needs to be specially looked after because she is obviously female and now goes through a _menstrual cycle_. This means the disease could turn life threatening.

* _'So why the link between porphyria and vampirism?'  
_Their bodies adapted to their disease by baring abnormally large (and extra) canines-fangs. There is only one way the body could absorb the nutrition and vitamins it needs for energy, and it's through the mouth. When it is avoided/put-off for too long it becomes instinct: The need to feed. (Oliver is eating and feeding Kyla the wrong body parts to get what their bodies need)

**Okay, I hope you understand their disease a little more…their creepy disease…I think I made up my form of the disease… O_O;;  
Enjoy the chapter! Thanks for those who reviewed, you helped out so much and forced me to do even more research… Speaking of which, I looked up on how the seats are placed inside the boxes in opera houses. I thought they brought chairs for the people attending into them-but, like always, I was wrong. XD Thanks again for the reviews!**

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**Cursed  
Chapter Six:** Jules  
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After I was done my coffee The Persian paid and we left the café to…I think it was his house. It was a very long and quiet walk, but he said that he will call a cab for me so I wouldn't have to walk all the back to the Opera House. That craving for tasting a penny didn't end and my stomach felt as if it was going to digest itself by the time I explained my disease to The Persian, and I explained it to him in the same horrific detail Oliver had told me. I didn't think I would have to sugar coat anything for The Persian, but halfway through I noticed that he was turning a little green. I didn't see why he was the one getting queasy when it's me that literally _needs_ it.

I almost burst out laughing when he asked 'Have you ever…_fed_ from a person?' but managed to keep myself from doing so. I told him 'It's my brother that tasted flesh and it's his body that craves for it now.' Though, I couldn't keep myself from smiling and he seemed to not believe me completely…and when I took off my wig, I didn't bother holding in my laughter. The look on both their faces!

The Persian shrunk back in his seat with wide eyes while Darius looked like he couldn't move. At this point I could probably tell them that I have a purple elephant that teaches me math and they would believe me.

"Go ahead and tug on it. It's real." I told them and leaned forward in my seat, offering either of them to give a tug at my hair and put the wig down beside me.

The Persian was hesitant at first, like a timid child when he reached out and gave my hair a very soft tug…and then pulled away as if it burned him, making Darius slightly jump with a start. It almost made me laugh again and I moved on to show him my teeth. This time he stood and towered over me to see them up close. I had my head tilted back and my mouth open like I was in a dentist chair as he inspected them. He seemed very interested with the smaller, second set of fangs hidden behind my original ones and asked me a few questions.

'Do they trouble you when you eat?' – 'Are they as sharp as they appear to be?' – And more weird questions but I answered them all. My favourite was the 'how sharp' question. I gave him a demonstration by biting the base of my finger and blood slowly seeped out of two little holes…of course, they were not deep enough to leave a scar or bleed out too much. Just enough to taste a little copper and satisfy that odd craving.

He asked me a lot of questions actually and each one was very professional, I just had to ask if he was a doctor.

He chuckled and shook his head, telling me that he specialized with…poisons?

_Whoa, where did he come from?_

The fun, light conversation changed when he asked about my wrist. So I told him the short (well rehearsed) version of what happened.

"My old doctor told me that my sickness could affect my sanity… there is no cure for what you're born with and what if I really kill someone and eat their body for sustenance? So I thought that I should kill myself before anything like that happens. But…things sort of went out of control and I drank my own blood…" I paused and couldn't help but laugh. I caught myself with a lie! "Okay, so me and my brother got a taste of me, but I never ate real human meat or anything like that."

He was silent for a long time and Darius made some tea. He was just staring at me, obviously speechless before he cleared his throat and asked, "What do you mean exactly by 'a taste of you'?"

"Oh, my brother took a big bite out of me when I was nine." I explained casually and stirred my tea after adding three teaspoons of sugar. "I have the scar if you want to see. I'm sure his bite mark is still there."

He stared at me in disbelief, pity and slight disgust. It didn't bother me as much as it did when other people looked at me in that way though, maybe because they weren't being told by me or Oliver directly. Instead they would listen to the full story on a recording we made when we were just starting out our teen years.

I was grinning and had to hide it behind the teacup. He cleared his throat and spoke to Darius in that language I didn't understand. Darius nodded obediently and left us alone in the living room.

"And how did this talk about a 'witch' begin?" He asked me. _That was the best question he asked all afternoon!_

"I have no clue how that started, I'm just as confused as you are." I told him confidently and he asked me if other meats could get the job done. I looked down thoughtfully and bit at my bottom lip, mulling over the question before giving a shrug.

"I ate beef, pork, turkey and chicken before but I didn't bother to notice anything different at the time. Back home and at the hospital they had me on a strict no meat diet." I explained to him, leaving out the horrid bacon Oliver fed me in the parking lot.

"I see…" The Persian murmured with a slow nod. "It must be difficult having to live with such a sickness."

My eyes snapped up to him and I was at a loss for words. I was not expecting him to say that. That was what people say when they are trying to be sympathetic when really they pity you. I've heard that line times before and each time I had to recite my life story and then answer all their questions…kind of like right now. _No, The Persian is different. He knows The Phantom of the Opera. Me being a meat lover is nothing compared to The Phantom in his eyes. _I reassured myself, swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat and gave a shrug as if it were no big deal.

"Everyone has a sob story they like to complain about. Some of us just stick out a lot more than others and we're treated differently because we can't hide it as well as other people." _I have been waiting forever to give that little speech…_

The Persian gave another nod and lifted his cup to his lips. I felt myself grin widely and slumped back in my seat in great relief. I was about to sigh happily, but then I looked at him and it caught in my throat. My happiness dying down when I seen that he was regarding me carefully and at the same time torn between what to do. I only seen that once before and that _exact_ look was on my mom's face when the dentist noticed my teeth and that morning Oliver bit me. He lied. He gave me his word that he wasn't going to treat me differently but he was already doing it.

_I should've just let him think I was suicidal instead of telling him all about this stupid disease. _

I didn't even realise I was glaring at him, or that I was about to cry until he asked me what was wrong. I shook my head a little and stood up, grabbing my wig off the couch. "I think I've been gone too long." I snapped, my voice cracking up in-between and I tried putting on the wig as fast I could while heading to the front door.

The Persian was taken aback at first, then quickly stood from his seat and followed after me.

He was trying to persuade me to stay, telling me that he would escort me back to the Opera after we have eaten. By then I was already at the door, my wig a total mess and a few angry tears had already fell down my cheeks. I was trying hide my face so he wouldn't see me crying, even though I expected that he already knew and he took my shoulders in his hands from behind, using his thumbs to rub at my shoulder blades.

Being held in place like that put me in a mild panic, but the way he was rubbing at my shoulder blades was…in a word, comforting. The feeling was equivalent to a tight hug and got me to stop crying and made the pain in my chest and throat go away.

We stood like this in front of the door in an awkward silence for what felt like hours before his hands released me, one of them moving to my mid back and he led me back into the living room of his small old-fashioned home, he called a flat. There he gently set me down and handed me a handkerchief, asking me if I wanted a brush or comb for my wig. I gave a small laugh and nodded, wiping the tears with the handkerchief. He left for a few short moments, returning with a comb and asked for my wig. I handed it to him, surprise probably written all over my face as he gave a small smile and sat back in his chair where he combed my wig to perfection. _Literally. The Persian had skills with a comb. _

Darius returned a little while after with dinner. I didn't even realise I was here that long. Hopefully everyone back at the Opera house had calmed down by now. When I got a whiff of the food I felt my mouth water, and when I seen it…I never felt so grateful in my life.

The Persian got Darius to get meat, and lots of it. It was like a miniature thanksgiving feast! Everything was there. Corn, chicken, turkey, weird looking stuffing—the works. The Persian took it upon himself to make my plate, adding a lot more meat than what he put on his plate. I didn't even touch the glass of wine he gave me. He was quiet on the most part, but when he did speak he kept the conversation light and seemed very careful in picking his words. It sort of…irked me. He shouldn't have to tip-toe around me in his own home…and then when I would begin to feel bad he would compliment me or ask me questions in a complicated way, like a riddle. Soon enough I was finished eating and I finally figured out the riddle-like question with a triumphant grin on my face. This dinner was so…good. I don't think I've ever been to a dinner that I've found pleasant without food particles being cleverly thrown across the table or having heard a really gross 'joke'. The whole time I had to keep myself planted into my seat because I was scared I would attack The Persian with a glomp (tackle form of a hug). They blew me away when Darius came back with beautiful chocolate cake slices for desert. _Best. Dinner. Ever._

It wasn't until he took me back to the Opera, the cab was already on its way, when I realised what happened in the doorway of The Persian's home and became completely confused. _How the hell?_ I stared after the carriage for a moment longer before forcing myself to forget about that weird mind control thing he did_…for now._

Inside the opera house I expected an angry mob, a priest with holy water, a chair in the middle of the grand foyer waiting for me, the managers telling me that I was fired—SOMETHING that would scare the crap out of me…but it was completely quiet…it was early evening, it was completely quiet and there was no one around. Did I miss out on something big while I was gone?

I felt my stomach drop and my mind reeled back in dread when the thought of the Phantom already kidnapping Christine came to mind. Everyone and everything is different from what I've seen in the movie, so wouldn't she be kidnapped at a different time? _Please God, no. Just…just no. _I picked up my pace as I approached the stairs, taking two steps at a time. Glancing around the empty room nervously and gripped onto my shirt sleeve; arm over my abdomen. I was not used to this place being so eerily quiet during this time and the thought of being too late to try help him... I didn't want to think about it.

Halfway up the stairs I jumped with a start as the empty foyer suddenly BOOMED with music from the orchestra from inside the auditorium.

So_ that_ was why it was so empty. There's an opera tonight. Everyone is too busy back stage and looking after the box seats…and that doesn't sound like Carlotta on stage. Christine was not taken yet.

I sighed and visibly relaxed in relief with a soft laugh. I was scared for nothing! With a stupid smile on my face I walked towards the back stage with a bit more confidence, taking a short walk towards box 5 just to see if I could get a little lucky with a ghost sighting. I've never tried during an opera so…maybe it would happen this time?

Coming to the corner I peeked around first to see if Madame Giry was there. To my luck there was no one and the hall was completely empty. I walked onwards, going past box 1 and box 3…as soon as the seen the number '5' on the door—I lost my nerve completely. I paused in a mid-step and decided to just walk past, and he wouldn't even know it was me here. I was stealing the man's thunder, I ruined his attempt at killing me and I slapped his 'one and only' for a reason that hasn't happened yet. I'm pretty sure that I am one of the top ten on his hit list and I don't want a repeat of what happened in my room…the way he just vanished proved to me that it was him. I didn't notice I stopped walking as I thought back on last night…somehow the memory turned into a daydream._ Oh my…To hell with 'skin and bone'- I bet my left arm that it is ALL MUSCLE._ I thought as I allowed my imagination get the better of me; my fingers shamelessly glides up and down the guy's chest, feeling the small and smooth dip-ins between each rib through the thick material of his formal dressing…

Suddenly there was a tapping on the door of box 5, and with each tap my heart stopped.

_TAP-TAP-TAP! _

A tremor of dread shook my insides. I got so scared that I couldn't move! My mind was racing in all directions so fast they were totally incoherent to me! …then the _scariest thing ever_ happened. The fuckin' door slowly crept open by itself.

"Madame Jules," he said "a foot stool, please."

His voice was so…soft and kind…it made most of my fear melt away. I can't believe I didn't turn into a puddle right then and there. My body had already went in search for the foot stool before my mind had a chance to catch up. I would have felt relieved because he seemed to be in a good mood but there was this annoying part of me that just made me unbelievably giddy and screamed _OH MY GOD HE TALKED TO ME!_

"…who the hell was Jules?" I asked aloud and turned to the door, foot stool in hand.

From where I stood, the view of the door seemed to look the exact opposite of how his voice sounded…from comfort and calm to haunting and deadly. I had a gut feeling that the door would shut as soon as I stood inside that box because I was not 'Madame Jules'…wasn't Madame Giry supposed to be here for this? I think this is the first time I actually wanted her… I was staring at the door for a long time and I could imagine the Phantom becoming more and more impatient, but I was too scared to inside the box. _Couldn't I just…put the stool in the doorway? He could take it from there… _I felt a shiver run through me and my hair stood on end. _Eww_, I felt like those half naked girls in scary movies…you know, they look all over to see if they are being watched but they always miss the place where the killer was standing? _Holy shit, **am I** being watched? _

My eyes jumped to the doorway, from corner to corner I search for those same glowing eyes…but the feeling went away the moment I looked up. I felt my mouth and throat had suddenly gone dry, my leg muscles began to ache in preparation to run and my lungs were demanding for more air. I haven't felt this scared since I first flushed the toilet and I was locked in the bathroom…_I was four, don't judge me. It was very traumatic_.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to just leave the stool in the doorway and then run like hell.

With each step I felt that same cliché horror movie 'I'm being watched' feeling following me. I kept my eyes focused on the stool in my hands to try ignore it. The bruises on my neck and wrists began to throb as if they had their own heart beat. I felt nauseous; the food I ate with The Persian rested in my throat and my mouth started to fill up with saliva like a faucet was running. I was at the door a lot sooner than I would have liked. Now I can see inside the box and all the seats were empty. The only indication that someone was here was the curtains, only one of the two was pulled to the side and the stage of the opera was in sight…a perfect view from in there. I was griping the foot stool so tightly that my knuckles were white and my arms were shaking. When I moved to put the stool down in the middle of the doorway there was this ringing in my ears that muffled everything else, like my heart racing, the opera…the laugh/cackle from inside the box. His voice was heard again, coming from the seats.

"You are not Jules." He pointed out and then asked me _why_ I was setting the foot stool there.

My heart stopped in my chest and I quickly shook my head. "No, I'm the only one in this hall right now. I was w-walking by when you asked for a foot s-stool."

"And you are her replacement until she returns?" he asked…more like pointed out, as if he was not impressed with the situation…like a snob.

Under my fear and need to run away…I was offended with his tone. I felt myself bristle up, a little awkwardly with the mixed emotions.

"I guess…for _now_ anyways." I muttered with a shrug and stood up. Leaving the stool in the middle if the door frame I was turning to leave, keeping my eyes on the seats inside when he gave me a start when he spoke up again.

"You haven't answered my question."

My eyes were jumping from seat to seat as I tried to locate where the voice was coming from. I didn't expect him to try keep up a conversation with me, especially now; in the middle of an opera. I wanted to peek my head in the door to see where he was hiding, but the thought of the door slamming on my neck was more than enough to firmly say that it was a stupid idea.

"I'm not going to answer." I replied and made another attempt to leave.

Again, his voice got me to stop, this time his tone got under my skin. "That is not where Madame Jules sets the stool."

He sounded like a whiney _brat_! You know those little kids you just can't stand listening to and you can't help but think that they should get a good slap? I had to take a deep breath and hold it so I wouldn't do anything stupid. The calming breath thing didn't stop me from 'giving him attitude' (as old people say these days…erm, I mean back home).

"I'm not Madame Jules, now am I?" I snapped back.

I heard a soft creak coming off one of the seats, as if someone _were_ moving and they _were_ sitting there. I jumped with a sharp gasp, my hand shooting up to cover my mouth to keep myself from screaming like a little girl and scrambled back from the door until my back hit against the wall. _What the hell?_ I inwardly screamed. I could my legs shaking and at the same time I could get them to move. How did he do _that_?

Then there was an amused, warm and friendly chuckle. "Please, Mademoiselle, place the stool in its rightful place."

I couldn't believe how scared I was and this guy was enjoying my heart attacks! Using that annoying teasing tone…

I pulled my hand off my mouth and took a deep breath. My hand was shaking and I felt a cold sweat coming on. I told myself to just get it over with and wiped my sweaty hands onto my pant legs as I pushed myself off the wall. _More like peeled myself off the wall. _Bending down to get the stool off the ground, I took two steps into the box and raised my right hand to the level of my eyes. I kept my gaze down onto the red carpet under my feet, paying special attention to what I could see at the corner of my eyes. The lone curtain that was pulled to one side, the legs and backs of the seats, the silhouette of my legs and boots…how dark and evil the rest of the small space looked. I gulped nervously and couldn't help but think of how much of a royal dumbass I was being right now. For all I know this was a trap so he could try Punjab me again.

"Where do you want it?" I meant to ask but it came out as an airy whisper.

"The front row, first seat to your right, please."

_So he did hear me. Why am I not surprised?_ I thought to myself and looked over to the seats. In the movie I only seen Raoul sitting in this box in this red and gold chair, but here there was ten seats. Three in the very front, five in the middle and two at the very back placed at each end. Also, the chairs looked to be bolted into the floor. Like those really old movie theatre seats, only…new and not flea infested. Not even a single stain on the fabric or a split in the wood.

Why is nothing here the same as it was in the movie? I know every line and lyric by heart but so far no one has broken into song! I'm not complaining. Seriously, I don't mind because my singing is probably worse than Carlotta's in the movie. But I would rather embarrass myself with my voice right now because I'm not the type of person that likes surprises! I _need_ to know what is what or else risk feeling stupid…and I've had enough of that for one day. The rumours, the never ending stares, that big paper thing falling on the stage, _crying_ in front of The Persian—Yes! I have had enough for today!

…I just have to walk out of this box alive and I could go to my room to do nothing until Carlotta returns in the morning, then I will know if I was fired or not.

_Okay, first row and the first seat on my right… _I was holding the foot stool so hard I could feel my nails threatening to bend backwards as I took my steps. The arm I had raised to my eyes was visibly shaking in a tight fist, and it felt like my boots were made of cement blocks. This was the first time I have experienced this feeling. I must've looked like a toddler taking her first steps. Oh, how Oliver would just _love_ to tease me right now. To my amazement, the door was still wide open. I had my escape route planned out, and if the door slams shut while I am inside—Scream.

I kept my eyes on the rug in front of the seat I had to put the stool down as I walked around the two back rows. My heart sped up dramatically and adrenalin rushed all through me as I neared the seat. I could feel my heart thumping in my chest and the dramatic music playing on stage was only adding to my excitement.

"Who has told you to keep your hand at level with your eyes, witch?"

I felt my stomach lurch painfully and my knees nearly gave out from under me when he spoke. _That _time he did not sound nice. It reminded me of a giddy Hannible Lector (the old creepy one, not the hot young one).

"I…I…no—" I shook my head. I couldn't think straight. My chest felt like it was in a vice, my breaths turned into short, fast gasps. My throat was closing in on itself and I could taste bile. I swallowed to try clear my throat, giving an audible gulp-but to me my saliva was going down _way_ too slow. I ended up biting at my lip. Hard.

"Here's the stool." I nearly screamed and put the troublesome piece of wood down on the floor by the seat and almost fell over. I used the seat to stop, and there was suddenly a shrill cry of a _woman_!

"Ahh! Get your hand off me!" She screamed _at_ me, but there was _no one_ in that seat!

I heard myself scream as I threw myself away from the seat, tripping over that damn footstool and landing on the rugged floor- back first and my head following right after. Even I heard the bang. I grit and seethed through my teeth in pain. There were no stars, birds in my line of sight. I wasn't even seeing double, but the area behind my eyes _hurt_ and all sound was muffled by this ringing. I put the butt of my palm over my right eye to try dull the pain and pushed myself onto my feet as fast as I could, staggering like a drunk towards the door. I could vaguely make out the invisible woman having a hissy fit and the Phantom talking to her in a soothing tone while lecturing me for touching his wife in such an inappropriate manner.

I was just passing the second row of seats when she whispered right into my ear, "You will never come near this box again!"

I _think_ I screamed a second time before I blindly ran straight out of the box at full speed. Slamming myself against the hallway wall and stumbling a bit on the way before crashing into the black dressed Madame Giry. I expected us to fall upon impact, but I underestimated the ballet mistress's strength, for she stood her ground like a brick wall and grasped my shoulders and kept _me_ from falling.

She looked completely bewildered at my state, having her very own double-take moment. Her eyes, which were usually narrowed into a permanent glare, were wide and her already thin lips were set into a very tight-lipped line to hide her surprise.

I was gasping for breath worse than a smoker at a triathlon. If it weren't for her hold on me I might've fallen to my knees! I usually have this thing about being held in place like this, but right now it just screamed _Safe_ and relief spread all through me like a safety blanket. God! Was I ever happy to see her!

She was holding me at arms length and she looked me over once or twice, and then opened her mouth to speak, but the box door slammed shut with a loud bang. Right behind me.

I must've jumped at least three feet into the air and I whipped around to be sure no one was behind me…and nothing. The hall was completely empty, save for Madame Giry and myself. I didn't even feel my hands slapping themselves over my mouth and I shakily pried them off. My eyes were jumping wildly to every nook and cranny of this hall. _I could feel him watching!_

Giry took hold of my shoulders again and forced back around to face her stern and _very_ serious expression. "What happened?"

"He asked for Jules and a foot stool, but Jules wasn't here so I had to get it and then he said that I wasn't putting it in the right spot so I had to walk inside to put the foot stool down and then his wife screamed-I didn't mean to!" My mouth was running a mile a minute, even_ I_ didn't quite understand what I just said!

"Child!" She gave my shoulders a rough shake to calm down. "What are you going on about?"

Upon realising what the hell just happened in box 5 my face reddened, my eyes began to throb and sting with tears, black spots clouded my vision like black snow flakes falling from the ceiling and I felt my heart breaking all over again. I blinked a few times, swallowed the lump in my throat before putting a smile on my face. "I fondled his wife."

If possible, Giry's eyes widened even more and I heard two soft gasps from behind her.

I peered over her shoulder towards the end of the hall and spotted the creepiest little girl I have ever seen. Her jet black hair, black eyes and pale white skin. Just like Emily Strange. I still cannot believe that she was Meg Giry. She was not the threat. The threat was the girl standing next to her with wide eyes and even wider mouth that would put a fish to shame. Little Jammes.

I didn't need a mirror, nor did I have to be told to know that I was giving the little brat the dirtiest glare I could muster. The look on her and little Giry's faces told me so.

Madame Giry looked over her shoulder and brought her finger to her lips, then shooed the two girls away with a wave of her hand.

Meg ran off obediently enough, but had to come back to tug Jammes along.

To my utter horror, I found out why Jammes had been staring at me like that and why Giry motioned them to be quiet, when I felt a chill at the back of my neck. My wig had always kept my neck warm. With a sharp gasp my hands shot up to my hair and felt sweaty, short, fine strands between my fingers. I wasn't wearing my wig.


	8. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:**

_Scene from The Phantom of the Opera, by Gaston Leroux  
__Raoul DeChangy and The Persian_

_"What did you say to the commissary?"_

_"I said that Christine Daae's abductor was the Angel of Music, ALIAS the Opera ghost, and that the real name was..."_

_"Hush!...And did he believe you?"_

_"No."_

_"He attached no importance to what you said?"_

_"No."_

_"He took you for a bit of a madman?"_

_"Yes."_

_"So much the better!" sighed the Persian._

**Did anyone else laugh at that? Or was it just me? XD  
Oh! And the ULTIMATE INSULT: **_"You silly ass."_ **XDD**

**Thank you all for reviewing! If you would like to read the Leroux Novel of POTO online there is a link in my profile! (At the very top. I've made sure it was the novel; word for word.) I think you're going to like this one. X3**

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**Cursed  
Chapter Seven: **Stupid Mary-Sue

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You know when you heard a song on the radio a long time ago, you weren't really paying attention to it and it suddenly starts playing in your head over and over weeks or months after? Annoying right? Especially if you know who sings it but didn't know what the song is called or vice versa. You know you just need to hear it once and it will go away…but being back in time there is no internet, no radio and the fact that the artist _isn't even born yet_ is a piss off.

_I hate Michael Bublé, so much right now. _I have been sitting in Carlotta's dressing room for hours, trying to remember the lyrics to his damn song. I need it out of my head! But so far all I got written down was…

_I'm not surprised, not everything laughs  
I broke my heart so many times I stopped keeping track  
Talked myself in, I talked myself out  
I get all worked up just to let myself down  
Blah, blah, blah, a million excuses  
Blah, blah, blah,  
I know that someday it will all turn out  
You'll make me work so we can work to work it out  
Blah, blah, blah, kid  
I just haven't met you yet  
Blah, blah, blah  
I guess it's half timing and the other half's luck  
Blah, blah, blah  
You'll come out of nowhere and into my life_

…I know it's not perfect. Of course not everything _laughs_. That would be creepy. …I have a strong feeling that a Shakespeare quote is in there somewhere. _Damn you Michael Bublé and your happy, up-beat love songs!_

Oh, I'm in the dressing room because I am supposed to clean it up for her highness. Tonight they will be performing _Faust_ and Carlotta had been acting weird. I didn't know she was so superstitious. She got me to keep a handful of salt in my pocket as soon as she arrived and then she wouldn't shut up about a letter.

I've read it, thinking it would be from the Opera Ghost but that little flame of hope just burnt out when I held the little piece of paper in my hands. Small, yet thick piece of paper. I was very tempted to keep it for myself because of how small it was, and the writing on it!

'_If you appear to-night, you must be prepared for a great misfortune at the moment when you open your mouth to sing...a misfortune worse than death.'_

Written in red ink. This person must have been writing it with the wrong hand because his (or her) handwriting was worse than mine—And I don't know how to handwrite! …other than my name; for signature purposes. I always print or type on a keyboard. Handwriting is too…I just hate it. Gives me a sore wrist.

I had to read it very slowly just to understand what the hell it said and ended up rolling my eyes. In the movie Carlotta got a note, along with the fop and the managers but they haven't popped up bitching about it so I brushed it off. Nothing was going to happen to her. I don't remember Faust being performed in the movie, just _Ill Muto_ and something else with a huge elephant in Rome, so all is good. …I'm secretly waiting to see one of the managers drink wine from her shoe. Also, Carlotta has this really determined air about her. It's almost contagious.

And then there was a second letter with the same hand writing. This one made me laugh:

'_You have a bad cold. If you are wise, you will see that it is madness to try to sing to-night.'_

She was supposed to be exercising her vocal cords or something right now, before she get's dressed into that costume glaring at me in the corner. I was just fixing the divan-couch-thing's cushions when that damn song decided to play in my head and flew out of my ear right after. I moved to sit at the vanity mirror thing and began scribbling down on some paper, trying to get all the lyrics down. I assume you understand my frustration here.

I sigh deeply and rake my fingers through my hair. My _real _hair.

You see, my wig was never returned to me. Not like I needed it anymore. After what happened that night the news of my 'real' hair spread like wild fire throughout the opera house, and I know who started it all. I swear to God, I'm going to kill that little Jammes girl.

I had told Giry where I had the wig last- In Box 5 –and after the performance she offered to go and get it for me while I hid in a dark corner wearing that dingy black bonnet-thingy of hers. When she came back she had a large box of chocolates (turns out that the box was filled with 'English sweets') and no wig. She said that she had searched under the seats and in the curtains but there was no sign of my wig anywhere inside.

He took it!

I bet he was watching this whole time. I was already an outcast before but now the shit just hit the fan. There were no more sceptics that didn't believe in magic and witchcraft, everyone was pretty convinced.

At first I tried to brush it off, thinking that this was nothing to be too worried about and everyone would get used to it. Two days later I'm hiding behind the managers while staff and dancers alike demand the managers to 'sack' me. (It sounded so wrong to me until it was thoroughly explained to me that they want me _fired_.) And then when there was complaints of my 'hexes' and 'curses' I put on the girls. Saying stuff like; '_I could feel her hands reaching inside me and taking hold of my insides in an iron grip!_'

It's called period cramps. Those girls just ended up embarrassing themselves when I ended up being right.

They didn't fire me…they just sent the rest of the complainers to Carlotta, telling them all that it was Carlotta that hired me in the first place. Oh, how they made me feel wanted. _Not. _

I really miss Emmet and Jacques…mostly Jacques because he has the same name as my brother's friend and I find it nice to have something familiar around me. I just didn't think that they would turn their backs on me after what happened to Bouquet. Actually, they started acting weird after I slapped Daae, wearing a dress. _This is bullshit if they're acting like this all because of hormones._

The door of the dressing room swung open behind me, followed by a string of Spanish words I didn't understand, but the tone of a nag was recognisable enough.

I whipped around in the chair and jumped to my feet, ready to come up with a million excuses as to why the dressing room was not clean yet until I seen the look of pure hatred on Carlotta's face as she stomped into the room. The look was not directed at me—_Thank God_. Following right behind her was the source of said Spanish; an older woman that…was the older and (excuse my bluntness) much _fatter_ version of Carlotta.

Her nose high in the air as she walked, the dress she wore was probably the latest fashion (hell if I'd know) and the way she carried herself just screamed 'snob' to me, even as she waved around a letter in her pudgy hand. The spark of dislike towards her was instant.

I watched the exchange between the both of them…well, it wasn't exactly an exchange. It was more like a one-sided argument. Carlotta had yet to turn around to face the woman or even defend herself and remained staring straight ahead…just taking it. I would have more of an input on this if I knew what the hell that woman was saying.

Ever so slowly I was backing away towards the safety of the closet with the full length mirrors and ceiling high drapes to hide in. It would be best if I stayed out of this and I would be more than willing to get out if that lady weren't blocking the damn door.

Carlotta's eyes flicked over to me. I froze in mid-tip-toe. Both our eyes widened and I'm pretty sure we both thought the same thing.

_Shit!_

And _then…_the woman paused in her rant, in what sounded like mid-sentence, and when I glanced over to her she was looking right at me.

"…should I leave?" I asked Carlotta after a long, awkward pause of the three of us sparing glances at each other.

Her mouth opened to answer me, but it was the other woman's voice that cut her off.

"Why is this little thief in _your_ dressing room?"

My eyes snapped over to her and seen that she was giving me a once over, and obviously didn't like what she seen. I'm dressed in the same men's clothes, the shoes were a little big on me and the shirt is far from flattering, I know. The bruising over my neck and wrists (the 'jewellery' Phantom had left me) were still healing and faded into a shade between purple and red, the rope burns had sort of scabbed over and were healing nicely on their own, the bump at the back of my head stopped bothering me a long time ago...and I brushed my hair, I couldn't have looked that bad! What's with the snobby once over and little disapproving leer in the end?

I had to stop myself from snapping back an ever-so-clever 'fuck you' and looked to Carlotta for an answer to my question. The expression on her face—I knew all too well. It was either 'Please kill me now' or 'I hate my life'. I felt my eyes widen and suppressed a wicked grin from forming. _Oh my God, this woman was her mom!_

Carlotta sighed heavily and shook her head, moving across the room towards the mini changing room thing I was attempting to use as a hiding place. "No, Kayla. But please help me—"

The woman cut her off in Spanish again, sneering in disapproval and obviously referring towards me with a wave of her hand. But this time Carlotta responded, and not in Spanish.

"She is Kayla. She works for me." She explained through a sigh and motioned me over to her.

I took a deep breath and slowly let it escape my lungs before forcing a small smile and approached. _My name is just four letters long. It shouldn't be this hard to pronounce, even for a Spanish lady!_

I had to bite on my tongue in order to keep myself focused on Carlotta's many, many buttons and laces- and not glance over to the elephant in the room. It was when I finished unlacing the last lace in the back and she allowed the dress to fall to the floor was when the weirdness of the situation registered into my—oh, so slow—brain.

It was my first time undressing another girl and it was happening in front of her mother.

Of all times for one of those 'bi-curious' moments to happen—It just _had_ to be La Carlotta, didn't it?

I actually felt the color drain from my face and only one word echoed in my head. _Ewww!_

A knock sounded at the door and the people that normally help Carlotta dress into costumes and make-up filed into the room—Right on friggin time, I might add—and I was allowed to leave the room. I didn't even shut the door on my way out and ran through the halls until I reached the spiral stairs leading to the roof top. Farther up the wide hallway from there, I could see the ballet girls crowding around La Sorelli's dressing room door and squawking around like those annoying seagulls on Finding Nemo. While I was catching my breath, I sat on the bottom step of the stairs and could catch a few snips of their conversations.

Madame Giry was no longer the box-keeper of Boxes 1 to 7, most of the stable men have been fired…I don't remember ever seeing a stable outside the opera house, something about the up-coming Masque, and I apparently went 'missing'. It amazes me to no end, how the hell could they talk of all those things at one time without getting mixed up. They're like a flock of chickens! I should go over and ask when I went missing or if they sent someone to go find me.

I found myself suppressing a large grin and used my hand to cover my smile. In a few hours the opera would begin, and during that time I'm going to relax in a bath tub…and hopefully succeed in repressing that damned bi-curious moment.

_..._

At times like this I hate being female.

'_Curiosity killed the cat'_ I told myself and a voice replied '_but satisfaction brought it back_!'

It did not bring it back and you know it, stupid voice and making up their own rhymes just so it would be convenient.

I could have been back in my room, sitting in a large metal tub filled with nice hot water and smelling like lavender or roses, or whatever smell things Carlotta bought me—but _no, _I wanted to try find the Phantom's lair all by myself, and look where that got me! Stuck inside a small and grimy slide, clinging to the stone walls by my nails, with no light what-so-ever and praying that I don't slip! I knew about all the traps he had set up and I still came running down here like some dumb Mary-Sue character out of a fanfiction thinking nothing bad could happen to me! What the hell was going through my head when I came up with this brilliant idea? That I would magically or 'accidently' miss all of his fucking traps and find myself on his doorstep, completely unscathed and he would have tea and cookies waiting for me? Or even welcome me with open arms, or we make eye contact and we suddenly see eye to eye? I didn't even think of what I'm going to say to him when or if I do somehow find his lair!

_To put it bluntly, Kyla: You're fucked._ And where the hell did this voice come from? I swear to God, its sole aim is to add insult to injury.

It stinks in here! Like laundry that you forgot in the washer after a few days mixed with grandma's moldy attic and grandpa's funky basement…and the rank wetness of a pond. Argh, I don't even remember how I ended up in here…no, wait. I do remember. I just feel utterly stupid about it now.

At first I really was just going to have a bath. I brought the metal tub into my room and everything. I just had to collect the water and heat it up. But I got too lazy, thinking that apologizing to Christine should be at the top of my to-do list. You know, let her slap me so that the scores were even or maybe even giving her that ring I found. Girls like jewellery. One look at the pretty shiny thing and the whole mess would be forgotten. (That's how it worked with my mom, so I assume it would work for all girls…and women.) So I grabbed the ring out of my junk drawer (the top drawer), it was still on that black ribbon and loosely tide it around my neck like I would a necklace and set out on my 'epic' journey.

I tried looking around for her for maybe ten, fifteen minutes tops before I gave up and decided to go down into the cellars and look for her Angel of Music instead. By that time the opera had just started so I was pretty much invisible to everyone backstage. They were all running around too much to pay me any mind and surprisingly I found myself annoyed with it. I guess I didn't make much of an impact as I thought I did, and that was bad news for my little plan on getting the Phantom to notice me. Stealing his spotlight requires a bit more work, I realised and made a mental note of it before continuing on my way.

And so, there I was; walking along a creepy hall in the third cellar, minding my own business with only an oil lantern and my gut feeling as my guild. I turn in to a smaller passageway, up ahead I could see another set of stairs that lead down into the fourth cellar and—BAM!

The stone floor beneath my feet gave way and I'm falling into a black hole in the floor. I dropped the lantern and scream, then land on very slanted, very hard and slippery stone, where I slide downwards until I began to claw at the walls around me. The lantern had cracked upon landing and left behind a fiery trail that burned out after a few seconds. I could hear the sound of the lantern making its noisy way down the slide before it faded into silence, leaving me—in more ways than one—in the dark.

Now I lay on my stomach in a cold, grimy, pitch black, claustrophobic inducing (very small) tunnel slide—literally hanging by my nails with very little hope of being rescued. No one knows I'm down here! I don't know where this slide leads, how long it is or what was at the end of it. How far have I slid from the trap door I fell through? How high is the trap door from the slide-y floor?

I growl deep in my throat. I was in pain because my nails began to bend and lift from their beds on my fingers. My legs ached and threatened to start cramping up if I didn't stop pushing them against the walls, but I was scared to give some slack. What if I lose my footing and-or my grip?

"Owww-fuck this huuurts!" I yell out. My breath fanned my hands and I realise just how cold this tunnel really was and all I could do was listen to my echo as if fades away…just like that stupid oil lantern.

Oh, the Persian would just love to say 'I told you so' right about now. I just know it. In a way I was warned…okay I was flat out told to stop obsessing over this. I have the mental stability of a seventeen year old, did anyone really expect me not to try something? Especially after that scrawny asshole stole my wig and gave me the scare of a lifetime—Can anyone honestly tell me that they haven't seen this scenario coming! This is not my fault! Blame the parents!

I swear to God, I could hear my nails bending. My shirt begins riding up and my stomach touches freezing cold and slimy stone. I give a sharp gasp and start to worm my way back up in an effort to bring my shirt back down, but only succeeded in scaring myself and slipping until I was totally stretched out on my stomach. _Great. Now I feel vulnerable. You happy now? Stupid girl!_

How long was I in here? Shit, I'm going to start panicking. I could feel tears stinging my eyes already. I just have to get my mind off of it.

"Okay…just…just…"_ Your finger tips are going numb,_ an annoying voice points out to me and, to my horror—that annoying voice was right.

"Ah, fuck it—SOMEONE HELP ME!" I screamed, as loud as I could while keeping my words clear.

My scream was met with silence after my echo had faded, and my fingers were beginning to ache and tremble. Technically I am hanging in there by only four fingers and three fingernails. As scared as I am right now, I can't help but feel as sense of accomplishment. Now if only this didn't end with my name being put on the Darwin Awards website.

The sound of my shoes sliding against the walls alerted me of my increasing loss of grip. My heart plummeted into my stomach and I clawed at the floor again to get a better hold of something to keep my grounded-resulting in losing the only grip I had. I panicked!

I was sliding down at an agonizingly slow pace; stretching my self out in a star, with the butt of my palms and my toe-tips of my shoes pushing against the walls with all my strength—in hopes that I would come to a complete stop. I tried calling for help once more.

"PLEASE! ANYBODY!"

I found out the hard way that gravity favors no-one.

I was only bruising my toes and skinning my hands and scratching up my stomach with what I was doing, and I was gradually picking up speed. "No, no, no-no-no—AHH!"

My right hand had slipped into a very large hole, possibly another sliding tunnel that connected to this one, and now I was sliding way too fast. I was only hurting myself now—no one could say that I didn't put up a fight.

With some difficulty I had managed to lie on my side, lifting most of my upper body by prompting myself up and onto my elbows. I had my head up and facing forward. The speed I was sliding at pushed my hair back and the breeze sent a chill through me, but what I hated most about this was the horrible sensation of vertigo, mixed with the fear of not knowing and not being able to see. I was frozen and the scream that I wanted to desperately release was stuck in my throat. It was worse than being on 'The Mega Drop' ride for the first time! And then came a sharp turn. My back fell back against the wall during the turn and when it was finished I was stuck lying on my back for the rest of the way down, still staring straight ahead with wide eyes. I was finally coming to the end of the tunnel! There may not have been a bright light, or even be considered a light. It was more of a soft glow, like moon beams shining into a bed room.

The feel of relief was clear and I welcomed it eagerly…it was that damn annoying voice that ruined it with five words when I had a glimpse of what lay beyond the end of this hell slide: _This is going to hurt. _

Like any other slide, I was tossed off of it—aiming to land on my feet I had landed on something that caused me to stumble and trip, and I crashed into the floor; falling flat onto my stomach and skidding across the insanely hard floor. That voice was right; it did hurt.

Pushing myself up I came face to face with my own reflection. At first I was startled, not recognising myself and held back a shriek. If everyone thought I was a witch before, they're all going to have a shit if they were to see me now. My hair was a complete and horribly unflattering mess. Be it slime or grime, I couldn't tell and didn't want to know which it was that matted my hair and worked like a gel by holding my hair in this God-awful do. My chin and cheek were swelling up and sported one long scrape. There was so much blood pouring from my nose, and I don't remember hitting it anywhere during the slide or the fall! I grumbled and sat back onto my knees, using my shirt sleeve to wipe my face. I regretted not pocketing the Persian's handkerchief because now my only men's shirt is going to be stained beyond repair! The grime, blood and some unknown substance (that looks suspiciously like mucus) covered the shirt, and all around my abdomen it's raw with fresh scrapes. _Fuck sakes, I can hear the bath tub laughing at me from all the way down here…where the hell is down here?_

I take one glance around and I can't help but feel a little freaked out. Surrounding me in this oddly shaped room with six walls, are mirrors. Each one rested on the floor and reached the ceiling. In one of the corners stands a tree, and in the six corners placed between the mirrors are the same sort of pillars that are in the grand foyer…but there is space between it and the mirrors and I could see the same gears and metal working of a clock. Though I highly doubt this room is a giant clock… And the only source of light came from the hole in the middle of the ceiling.

Getting onto my feet I let my arm fall back to my side and lick the remaining blood, from the nose bleed, from my lips. It has been _years_ since my last nose bleed, I forgot the weird feeling you get afterwards. Taking a better look at my surroundings, I realise that the room is not as big as I thought it was. The floor was a lot harder than cement yet it was not smooth enough to be marble. _Metal floors?_ I questioned and then gave a shrug, not sure what it was.

I turn around to go investigate the tree that had managed to grow down here without access to water or sunlight and ended up face-palming.

Remember the thing I had tripped over?

It was the oil lamp I had brought along with me. Glass surrounded the metal frame and a small puddle of oil surrounded it. I knew it hand to have ended up somewhere, but I can't help but feel stupid and surprised with it being here.

I gave it a little kick on my way to the tree. My hand was running across the trunk of it, I couldn't help but mutter "What the fuck?" and felt it with both hands. This tree was made of metal! It looked so real, how the hell? Even the leaves of the tree were made of metal and were painted with great detail. One of the branches of the tree was the most noticeable, since I was able to reach out and hang on it, allowing my legs to give out from under me and almost swing back and forth.

This tree is so…lifelike, I still can't get over that someone actually made it. I was very impressed. Awed even. A metal tree, maybe an iron tree and I got to touch it. The metal trees back home are made of wire and easily bend, I know because I 'broke' all of mom's trees when I was little. But I couldn't understand was WHY and WHAT this room was for.

_Wait. _I stopped in a mid swing. _Haven't you seen this kind of tree before? _The question had me looking up at the leaves and branches. Well no shit, who hasn't seen a tree?

…but the longer you look at it… I know that I've seen this kind of tree before. It's nothing like the trees back home and it's definitely not like the trees outside the opera house. It's not thick enough to build a tree house, nor tall enough to reach the ceiling. Plus it was on the opposite corner of the slide opening making it useless to me. Climbing out of here is a no go.

Backing away to get a better view I step of something and the damn thing almost trips me. But seeing what it was cut my cuss short.

Under my foot was the Punjab lasso.

Butterflies fluttered in the pit of my stomach and my lips pulled up into a nervous grin. "We really need to stop meeting like this." I muttered and kicked it away, turning back around to get a real good look at the room. My own reflection staring back at me, along with the tree, I notice that when I stand in the middle of the room it looks as though I was in a very dense forest. And that is only if I don't look up at the ceiling.

Is this some kind of…suicide room or something? Fuck, I know Erik isn't exactly a sex symbol but this was a little over the top. (Then again, who am I to judge? My suicide attempt was as cliché as it could get!)

Thinking it over a bit more, I convinced myself that it was a suicide room and started looking for a door. I wonder if things would have been different if I had dreamt of Harry Potter instead of Phantom of the Opera. Casting spells with a stick and flying around at a school against music and being choked with a rope…I get called a witch anyways, why not add vampire to the mix? A witch that is part vampire, wouldn't that would be interesting. But every sorting hat quiz I took, I always ended up getting Slytherin. Every single time. Maybe if I lie? Could you lie to the sorting hat?

Soon enough I gave up looking for a door and sit myself down beside the metal tree, with my back against the mirror wall and hugging my knees. I hate feeling distressed, and hate feeling held down even more. How am I going to get out of here?

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**You guessed it, Kyla is in the torture chamber.**** I've done a lot of research on this, looking around in forums and re-reading the book, re-watching that one part in the movie over and over, and even attempted to make a diagram. Here is what I came up with (Look how hard I'm working for you readers!): **

**- My research on Erik's Torture Chamber and how I think it works: **

Six walls, twelve mirrors. Mirrors one, three, five, seven, nine and eleven are bolted in place like normal walls, while mirrors two – twelve are moved outwards (like a door opening).

Okay, so **presumably:** mirror [one] is the doorway that leads into Erik's home and mirror [three] (way up high) is where the window is (cannot be seen by the victim. I assume it is a two-way mirror; based off what the Persian's narrative had said). He has an iron tree in one of the corners, and lying at the foot of the tree is the Punjab lasso.  
Fitted between the mirrors (in the six corners) are rotating pillars with decorative motifs on them that put the feel or look of the forest and the desert described in the book. These motifs are also being reflected/multiplied by the mirrors.

When he activates the torture chamber the mirrors ( two – twelve ) are moved at an angle which is how the 'forest' is created. (With enough mirrors and how some are placed at an angle, the one tree reflected can make it seem as though you are in a real forest. (I have tested it with eight mirrors and a can of pepsi. It's like a green screen; making a seemingly never-ending sea of pepsi.))

The motifs create the look and feel of the forest and desert…you know, fung shui (pronounced: Fung Shway)? They are stacked and rotate to switch to a different motif. This is where the heat comes in.

Now the heat, we all know that light gives off heat, but in the right sort of environment the heat can remain and even rise in temperature. The perfect environment meaning: The torture chamber.

In the book it said that there is only a hole in the ceiling within the chamber, and it is too small and do damn high to reach. It is only there so the chamber would not blow up like a balloon and to keep the mirrors from bubbling inwards (or outwards). It is too small for cool air to come in while the heat is pouring out.

After a while/When the chamber is hot enough to force hallucinations and make you not right in the head, the lights are turned off and the fun begins (the jungle and the desert Erik is making sound effects for). If the person has not hung himself/herself by then the heat will just keep rising and become an oven- The victim would be baked/burned to death or will die of suffocation (_extreme heat could cause anxiety attack, and hallucinations | The lungs require a great deal of moister and the cold Kyla has just been exposed to (cold air within the slide and in the chamber) is dry air (says some medical sites and Q&A sites) and when you add artificial heat it is more dry air, making it very difficult to breathe and when added to having no water or food for a certain amount of time inside this intense heat...you get the idea_.)

**Phew! It may not make sense to you, but it makes sense to me…the heat can make a person crazy and the person can be influenced into thinking something is real, like the forest…if you have any questions on this (my crap-logic of how the torture chamber looks/works) feel free to message me or leave it in a review.**

**Hope you had fun reading. Thank you so much to those that left a review! I appreciate it so much! **

**Talk/type to you guys again in the next chapter! :D**

**~SafetyPinStitches**


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